


The Ones You Love

by kittenofdoomage



Series: The Rising Sons Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Breeding Kink, Character Death, Childbirth, Death, Dominance, Drama, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gore, Kidnapping, Marriage, Murder, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Restraint, Sex, Smut, Spanking, Submissive, Threesomes, Violence, child endangerment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 44,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22256812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: She knows who she is now and she will kill to protect the ones she loves. Sam and Dean are only just beginning to understand.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Original Female Character/Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader
Series: The Rising Sons Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602172
Comments: 43
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

It had started to snow three days ago. January was set to be bitter but you were used to the cold. And in the city, it didn’t seem to bother people as much as in the countryside. Your small town had practically shut down if there was too much of the white stuff but New York just kept on trundling along.

Wednesday was your day. The one day of the week that the boys left you alone, letting you indulge your hobbies. It wasn’t the only time you got to yourself but that specific day was off-limits for any plans.

Since coming back from a week on the other side of the country in a private villa on the Pacific Coast, there had been more than a few changes in your relationship with Sam and Dean Winchester. You’d made it clear that they belonged to you, even if you were their submissive.

Both of them had grovelled for a few days until you had grown weary of it. Diamonds and dresses weren’t the sort of thing that interested you and it appeared both men were slow on the uptake.

Then Sam had gifted you with some rare first editions of The Lord Of The Rings and you’d practically been putty in his hands.

But that wasn’t the end of the problem. You needed to trust them and the only way to do that was to make sure they didn’t need to go anywhere else for their satisfaction. Sam had agreed with a small condition that you have more frequent visits with your OBGYN, which you’d been intending on doing anyway.

Today you were waiting in the sandwich shop that Castiel had taken you to. It felt like a lifetime ago and you still carried the guilt for his death. Nothing Sam or Dean could do would change that and it was little comfort that the man responsible was dead and buried.

The bell over the door rang. There were only three tables in the little seating section and you were the only occupant - Elle spotted you right away, pulling her fashionable sunglasses down as she strutted over. Every inch of her was glamorous, as you expected, and she flashed you a brilliantly white smile as she sat down.

A server came over, took her order for a latte and moved away. Elle fixed her gaze on you, still grinning. “You look well.”

Glancing down, your hands automatically covered the barely-there four-month bump that your tight blouse gave away. It wasn’t a secret; you smiled back at her. “One could say glowing but that’s just the expensive makeup.”

Elle laughed, thanking the server when he returned with her drink. She waited for him to leave, tapping her acrylic nails on the table. “I assumed you called because you were in trouble,” she murmured, keeping her voice low. “But you don’t look troubled to me.”

“I need your help,” you confessed, leaning forward, stirring the spoon in your hot chocolate. You missed coffee more than anything and you couldn’t stand the decaf stuff but Sam was strict and overbearing to the point of being hilarious. “With Sam.”

The other woman’s eyes lit up. “With Sam?”

“What he needs,” you mumbled, avoiding her eyes. “How to… please him.”

“Darling,” Elle chuckled, reaching across the table to take your hand. “I think you’re pleasing him plenty.”

Your lips twitched into a smile. “There’s one thing he needs that I can’t provide, Elle,” you explained. “And I can see him, every day, needing it more but he can’t just go anywhere.” Elle watched you, sensing that you weren’t finished. “He needs someone he trusts.”

“He needs you.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You didn’t know how to be submissive,” Elle pointed out, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest, regarding you like a project she was interested in. “Me coming and whipping Sam’s deserving ass a few times won’t fix the problem, Y/N. I can’t be on call for that sort of thing.”

You deflated, clearly not expecting the rejection. But Elle wasn’t done.

“You learned how to submit. You used to be a cop, so there’s strength in you, determination. You’re stubborn, you’re feisty - you can learn to be dominant.” She flashed you another brilliant smile. “After all, we’re all beginners at one point or another.”

“You’d teach me?” you whispered, a little shocked at the suggestion.

“That I can do,” she picked up her coffee, blowing across the top of the frothy liquid, “seeing as it requires less actually being there.” Taking a sip, Elle hummed at the taste, smiling pleasantly. “Sam doesn’t even need to know.”

You hesitated at that. “Do you not want him to?”

She shrugged. “Either way, this is your choice, sweetie. As long as you want to do it -”

“I do.”

Elle chuckled again, shaking her head. “Those boys have no idea what a can of worms they opened, do they?”

You smirked. “Not yet.”

His office door was open as usual and you didn’t hesitate when you strode into the plush room, glad to find him alone. Bringing this up in front of Dean wouldn’t have worked; you needed your husband alone.

Your meeting with Elle had been three weeks before and since then, you’d been in constant contact via email. She’d sent you a lot of informative articles on being a successful female dominant, but so far, you’d absorbed information with no practice.

And practice was what you did best.

“Sam?”

His head lifted from the paperwork he was reading, eyes lighting up when he saw you stood in front of his desk, bare feet sinking into the fluffy carpet. “Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured happily, straightening in his seat and holding an arm out in a welcoming gesture.

You smiled, slipping around the side of the desk, instantly finding a spot on his thick thighs. Sam smiled, one hand settling on your waist, the other coming to cover your belly. 

“Feet still sore?” he asked, glancing down at your bare feet. You hadn’t been able to comfortably wear shoes for a few days due to swelling in your feet, although Dr. Marson had insisted there was nothing to worry about.

Nodding, you slid one arm around his shoulders, leaning in to inhale his scent. “A little. But I ordered those shoes, the ones Melissa recommended?” He grinned, his fingers splaying wide over your small bump. “Still nothing,” you giggled, watching his expression crumble.

Sam had been waiting since the moment you’d started to show, desperate to feel his child kicking. You knew it would be weeks before that but he still asked every single day. Sighing, he rubbed your belly gently. “Sorry. I know I’m being an idiot.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “It’s kinda adorable. Y’know, considering.”

He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you, barely a touch but enough passion to make heat thud through your veins. “I get the feeling this isn’t a social call,” he commented, lips brushing against yours. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you assured him, head getting a little foggy with his proximity. It was a quality he never seemed to shake, how _intense _he was, just in the way he touched you or talked to you. Ever since all of the drama, he’d gone out of his way to remind you how much your well being meant to him. “I just wanted to ask… if you _needed _anything.”

Sam blinked, tilting his head as he pulled back, clearly confused by the question. “Like… at the store?”

Giggling, you shook your head. “No. I mean…” An idea sparked in your head and you dropped your hand to his crotch, covering the outline of his cock with your fingers. Instantly, blood flowed south and he started to harden under your touch. “_Need _anything.”

He growled, his erection almost at full-mast. “Need you,” he hummed. 

_Stop being such a prude, your brain scolded. He’s had you upside down with his dick in your ass, why the hell are you being shy about this?_

“I’ve been talking to Elle,” you blurted out.

It was like you’d dropped a bucket of icy cold water on his head. Sam’s jaw dropped, his brow furrowing deeply as he regarded you. “About what?” he asked tightly.

“What you need,” you replied simply, shrugging. Your answer didn’t seem to please him and you squeaked when he picked you up, sitting you on the desk in front of him. “Sam -”

“Details,” he ordered, his thumbs pressing into the scars on either side of your thighs. Even through the fabric of your yoga pants, you could feel the calloused pads rubbing over the raised flesh, making you shudder. “Start talking, pretty girl.”

“I’m yours, Sam,” you breathed, watching the black of his pupil swallow the brilliant colors surrounding it. “You know I’m yours. But I need to know you’re mine and… you…”

“I what?”

You gasped when his fingers dug in harder, sliding up to grasp the waistband of your pants. “Sam -”

“I,” he ground out, “_what_?”

“You need to be punished,” you croaked out, not fighting him when he started to pull your pants down under your ass. His paperwork was shoved hastily to the side and you belatedly noticed the door was open, just as his breath fanned over your bare pussy.

Sam groaned, pulling your pants all the way off, apparently not caring about the open door. Not that it really mattered - the only other person in the building was Dean and he’d only join in.

But that wasn’t what this was about.

“Sam -”

“Keep talking,” he hummed, burying his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your soaked slit. You leaned back, bracing your weight on your hands, needing the space for his head with the bump of his offspring getting in the way. The changed angle let him get at your clit, stroking his tongue over the sensitive bud, making you yelp.

Bringing one hand forward, you rested it on his head, your fingers easily gliding through his thick hair. Sam snarled when you tugged on the long locks, your smirk growing as you decided to show him what you wanted.

Keeping your voice firm and loud, you tugged his hair again, issuing your command. “Make me cum, Sam.”

The surprise on his face was almost comical considering where his mouth was. You tightened your hold on his hair, forcing him to relinquish a strained little whine against your cunt. “Fuck, Y/N -”

“I said,” your voice was shaking a little now, “make me cum.”

Sam’s eyes rolled back in pleasure and he went to work, sucking hard at your clit. His fingers brushed your soaked hole, seeking entrance - you tensed, shaking your head as you pulled his hair to stop him. He looked up, eyes darker than they had been before, lust clouding any higher thinking as you reined him in.

“No hands,” you instructed, your husky tone surprising even you.

You saw stars when he returned his mouth to your sex, licking and sucking until you were quivering on the desk, almost horizontal across the wood. When you came, you bucked, releasing your hold on his hair to lower yourself all the way down.

“That’s what you want?” Sam licked his lips noisily as he stood straight, unbuckling his pants. You nodded languidly, smiling at your own success. “That’s why you’ve been talking to Elle?” His cock sprang free into his waiting hand; he didn’t waste any time in dragging the thick pulsing head through your folds, letting you feel the effect your behavior had on him.

“I want you to be happy,” you whispered, reaching for him. Sam grinned, easing into you slowly, letting you feel each inch as it split you open. “Want to be whatever you need.”

“You are,” he muttered, leaning over to kiss you, the length of his upper body allowing him to do so without crushing you. “You’re everything I need.” His hands framed your belly, sliding down to where the swell of it met your hips.

There was no more room for conversation as Sam took what you’d willingly give, his grunts and growls filling the room alongside your breathy whimpers. It didn’t take long for him to spill into you, his climax triggering a furthering of yours. Both of you clung to each other, Sam’s hair tickling your cheeks as he kissed you.

“You wanna be my dom, pretty girl?” he asked, lifting you back into a seated position as his cock slipped free. You nodded, almost bashful, despite the fact you were sat bare-assed on his desk with his cum dribbling out onto the polished surface. Sam smirked, fastening his pants and grabbing your yoga pants. “What did Elle say?”

Taking your pants, you slipped them back on, dropping back onto your bare feet, curling your toes in the carpet as you looked up at him. “She’s flying in tomorrow,” you muttered, swallowing nervously. “I… I asked her to come here.”

“Here?” He looked puzzled and you covered your belly with one hand.

“Just in case. I figured… at home, private… and I wanna know what I’m doing,” you admitted. “I want to make sure I’m doing it right. Elle’s the only person -”

“That I trust,” he finished, sighing heavily, leaning his forehead against yours, one hand on your shoulder, the other covering your hand on your belly. “I understand. Whatever you think is best, baby. But you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” you repeated, smiling. Sam’s hand lingered on your stomach when you removed yours, the hope in his eyes making your heart sing in a way you’d not thought possible a year ago. “Be patient. She’ll kick when she’s ready.”

“She?”

You shrugged. “50/50, right?”

Sam chuckled, kissing you once more before you turned. His hand connected with your ass in a playful slap and you squeaked, scurrying off to the door with his laughter chasing behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Your stomach had been a ball of knots since you’d spoken to Elle on the phone eight hours ago. Her flight was due at any moment and standing in the arrivals lounge, you clasped your hands together in front of your stomach to prevent them from shaking. Behind you, Benny waited patiently, keeping a watchful eye.

Elle emerged through the doors looking more inconspicuous than she usually did. Despite the sweatpants and form-fitting t-shirt, she still managed to appear more glamorous than you could hope for on your best day. Lifting the sunglasses from her face, she approached you with a smile, wrapping you in a warm hug before pulling back to look at you.

“I’m sure you’re twice the size you were a few weeks ago,” she commented, eyes twinkling. “He didn’t stick two in there, did he?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “Definitely only one on the first scan.”

“Wish I coulda seen the look on Sam’s face,” she giggled. “How’s he handling the pressure?”

“Better than me,” you sighed, linking arms with her. Elle smiled at Benny, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek when he moved to retrieve her luggage before falling into step behind you. “He’s excited. Waiting for the first kick.”

Clutching her chest, Elle pouted. “Sam Winchester, paternal. Never would have thought it.” Your cheeks heated at her teasing and you smiled back, shaking your head.

The car was parked right outside the doors, the perks of being a Winchester, you supposed, and Benny was quick to pack Elle’s suitcase into the trunk, slipping into the driver’s seat as you got comfortable.

“I’ve booked a room at the Plaza,” Elle informed you, folding her hands neatly in her lap. You opened your mouth to argue but she cut you off, shaking her head. “I’d be more comfortable,” she insisted. “I know you’re going to offer me a room in that awful Penthouse but I’d rather put myself outside of the domestic situation.”

“So we’re being professional,” you deduced - Elle nodded with a smile.

“Sam knows, I take it?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“How did he take that?”

The memory of how he’d taken it was still fresh in your mind. You swallowed and Elle immediately understood how Sam had received the news that she would be visiting. A smile curled her lips, one eyebrow darting upward.

“That good, huh?” You smirked, nodding and Elle laughed. “So, tell me,” she crossed one leg over the other as Benny pulled the car away from the curb, “have you decided on what you want from this?”

You shrugged, looking away briefly. “I just want Sam to be happy.” The expression on the other woman’s face was indiscernible but you somehow felt like your answer was wrong.

“Remember the first rule?”

“Safe, sane, consensual,” you rolled off, frowning at her. “This is consensual.”

“Not if you don’t _want _it. Sam’s not gonna enjoy it unless you do, sweetie. His pleasure comes from yours. Both parties have to be willing.”

Swallowing, you remembered the way he’d reacted to the simple action of tugging his hair, giving him that little command to make you cum. A shudder worked its way down your spine; you inhaled, fixing Elle with a small smile. “I want it. I want him to… submit.”

Elle grinned, that answer the one she wanted to hear. “Any thought on how?”

“A few.”

“Tell me.” Your eyes moved to Benny, who was completely ignoring you, focusing on the road ahead. There wasn’t much he hadn’t seen or heard and he was… surprisingly professional and level headed about it. Elle’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Benny doesn’t care, trust me.”

“I want… I want him tied up,” you started slowly, feeling less confident by the moment. “I want -”

She shook her head. “You’re going through the motions. Saying what you think I wanna hear. I want to know what you want to get out of this. What you want Sam to do for you.” There were a thousand things you could think up for him to do _to _you but not _for _you.

Elle sat forward, giving you a serious look.

“Think about the very first time he took control of you,” she murmured. “You need to try and switch those places. Make _him _the one on his knees.”

Okay, on his knees, you could work with that.

“Rope,” you whispered. “Bound at the wrists and on his knees.”

“Good,” Elle smiled. “You have to remember, Y/N, I’m there to support, to teach. I’m not going to be the crutch in your marriage. Or whatever you’re calling it.” You snorted at that and she laughed in return. “I’m still struggling to believe you’ve got Sam and Dean Winchester to settle down.”

You shrugged. “It was my way or the highway.”

“That!” Elle slapped her hands together, glee making her grin. “That is the attitude.” She leaned back laughing as the car ground to a halt. Benny grunted, looking over his shoulder. 

“Looks like traffic,” he muttered, meeting your eyes. “We should get to the Plaza in around half an hour.”

“Not too bad,” Elle commented. “When are we planning this… encounter?”

“Dean’s gone to visit his mom,” you replied. “Sam’s in a meeting until four, then he’s coming home.” Rubbing your hands together, you shifted a little nervously. “I told him to shower and clean… everywhere.”

Elle’s pleasant laughter filled the car again. “I’ve got to say,” she hummed, “I am really _really _looking forward to seeing you make Sam Winchester beg.”

You looked out of the window, clenching your thighs together. But you knew, you were looking forward to seeing that too.

Nervous didn’t cover how you were feeling. After dropping Elle at the hotel, Benny had driven you back to the Penthouse before taking off for the evening. It was only 3pm, so you had plenty of time to get yourself ready.

Elle had suggested, as it was your first time being on the other side of the power balance, that you leave Sam a list of instructions. Since that morning, they’d been waiting on the bed, ordering him to be freshly washed, shaved and to be in the playroom at five on the dot.

You wouldn’t be going in there until five-thirty; Elle had decided to test his patience, something she’d done to him in the past.

Waiting in the kitchen, you busied yourself painting your nails with the bright red polish you’d bought yesterday. Sam liked you in red - both brothers did - and you hoped that what you’d chosen to wear tonight would take his fancy. The nail polish matched the deep red lingerie you’d been hiding for a few weeks, although you were unsure how it would look with a five-month pregnancy bump.

The second trimester wasn’t being as evil as the first - the morning sickness was gone and you’d recovered your libido in voracious amounts. Dean had joked that the visit to his mom was to give his dick a rest.

Hearing the front door open, you straightened when Sam appeared in the doorway to the kitchen a moment later. He looked a little hesitant as he stepped inside, his eyes taking in the bathrobe you had wrapped tightly around your middle, concealing your outfit.

“Hey,” he murmured, crossing the room to drop a kiss on your forehead.

“Hi,” you smiled up at him, “how was the meeting?”

A small frown creased his forehead. “Boring. I was… antsy.”

“I’ll bet.”

Sam opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. “I’m gonna… go wash up.” His fingers grazed your shoulder as he passed, the fleeting smile from the doorway making your chest warm. For a few seconds, you stared at the doorway, wondering if you had it in you to dominate your beast of a husband.

Your phone started to buzz, distracting you from your thoughts and you picked it up from the table, answering Elle’s call. “Hey.”

“_Is he home_?”

“Yeah, he just got in a few minutes ago,” you replied, fiddling with the cord on your robe. “Are you on your way?”

“_On your street, sweetie_,” she chuckled. “_You okay_?”

You took a breath, nodding before you answered. “I’m good. Nervous.”

“_Don’t worry, you’re gonna be fine_.”

Doubting her faith in you, you ended the call and got up, eyeing the bottles of wine on the rack. The doctor had said one glass occasionally wouldn’t hurt the baby and the alcohol would certainly bolster your confidence… but you didn’t want to take the risk. You needed to be sharp, clear on what you were doing.

The sound of the buzzer made you jolt from your thoughts and you rushed to the door, opening it to Elle. She was dressed in a long coat and you very much doubted she was wearing much underneath it. “Hey,” you breathed, holding the door wide for her to enter.

“What did you go with?” she asked, smirking.

“The red,” you mumbled, showing her your barely-dry nails.

Elle raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Goes well with black,” she commented, undoing her coat as you closed the door. You turned, getting an eyeful of her outfit, the black corset accentuating her curves, topped off with lace panties and thigh-high boots that made you gasp. “I know, right? Hell to walk in but -”

“They look fantastic,” you murmured. 

“Thank you.” She shed her coat, hanging it next to the front door before turning to you expectantly. “Your turn.”

“Oh, I thought -”

Elle clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Honey,” she started, reaching for the cord holding your robe closed, “we need to make a good first impression. Sam knows I can crush his balls under my ridiculously expensive boots but -” The robe came undone and Elle grinned, standing back. “Damn.”

You felt your skin heat up under her attention, pulling the robe off. The lingerie you’d chosen was modest compared to her outfit but the way she looked at you made you feel like it had been worth the price tag. 

“Sam’s not gonna know what to do with himself,” she hummed, inspecting the lace detail on the practically see-through bra. “You’ve definitely gotten bigger.”

“Gained two cup sizes,” you mumbled, irritation on your face. “It’s uncomfortable.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Elle cooed, her hands dropping to frame your belly. “You really are glowing, you know. And not just from the expensive makeup.” You giggled as she stepped back, looking around. “How about we go and grab a drink before we start this little party?”


	3. Chapter 3

The scene was familiar. You’d been here many times before, in this room, but this time, it was on the other side of the power balance, as Elle kept saying. The other woman stood across the room, a glass of wine in hand as she smirked at Sam.

Leaving him waiting hadn’t alleviated any of your apprehension. Your own doubts were making you feel inferior, nerves pouring off of you in waves.

It was surprising he couldn’t taste it.

Elle placed her drink down, her heels clattering on the hardwood flooring. “You know why you’re here,” she urged you. “Instruct him.”

Sam’s eyes flicked to you and you knew what you wanted to do first. Striding to the dresser, you caught sight of Sam in the mirror, noticed his cock’s appreciation of what you were wearing. Maybe what you and Elle were wearing - it bolstered your confidence and you grabbed the blindfold, deciding to punish him for the reaction.

“I thought you could control yourself,” you scolded, turning with the slip of black fabric in your hand. “But if you’re not going to, we’ll have to take away what you’re enjoying.”

His throat bobbed but he didn’t speak.

Elle snapped her fingers, drawing his attention to her. “How do you reply, boy? She’s the learner here, you’re not.” Her tone was sharp; you felt a spark of arousal in your belly. God, she was good.

Sam shuddered, returning his gaze to you. “I’m sorry, mistress.”

“That’s better,” Elle smirked, picking her drink back up and sipping it.

You approached him, smiling as you lifted the blindfold, securing it tightly around his head. “Color?” you asked, glancing at Elle, who nodded her approval.

“Green,” Sam grunted, his cock twitching.

“Stand up straight,” you ordered, his posture instantly improving. “Rear cuff.” Moving his hands behind his back, Sam waited, holding them in the correct position. “Good boy.” His cock jumped again.

“You need to do something about that,” Elle pointed out, striding forward. Her slim fingers wrapped around the base of his dick; Sam remained silent, jaw tensed at the touch. “He knows better.”

You stared, captivated by the sight of her hand holding him, hard enough that the head of his cock started to darken, precum dribbling from the tip. Elle’s nails were elegantly painted, which only made the entire display more erotic.

Turning your back before she noticed how aroused you were, you moved to the dresser, retrieving the cock ring you’d placed out earlier that day. Once you were back in front of Sam, Elle released him - Sam groaned unwittingly and you smirked.

“That’s another punishment, Sam,” you murmured darkly. Reaching out, you grasped his cock in much the same fashion as Elle had, using your free hand to slide the ring down his shaft until it sat snug at the base. “I think I’m gonna let Elle choose this one.”

Elle smiled wickedly, her eyes lighting up. “I think… I want to make you cum,” she said, looking directly at you.

“Me?” you whispered, frowning.

“Yes, you,” she purred, moving closer to you, one hand sliding around your hip. “With your permission, I want him to listen to how easily I can make you scream.” You stuttered, shaking your head a little in disbelief. Elle cocked her head to the side. “I’m barely going to touch you if it helps.”

Sam’s head moved, the blindfold obviously frustrating him, depriving him of a such a tantalizing sight.

You nodded slowly and Elle turned you so your back was against her chest. One of her hands moved across your belly, down to the juncture of your thighs. When her fingers brushed the elastic of your panties, you jumped in surprise, closing your own eyes.

“She’s divine, Sam,” Elle hummed, teasing one slender finger underneath the lace covering you. “A true Queen.” You sucked in a breath, feeling her fingertips graze your clit. “I’m barely touching her and she’s so responsive.”

Something inside you curled outward, needing more. “You wish you could see this, Sam?”

“Yes, mistress,” he grunted, his tone gruff, body practically vibrating where he stood.

Elle’s breath was hot against your ear. “You see how hard he is? Open your eyes, Y/N.”

You did as she ordered, lowering your gaze to Sam’s swollen manhood, his control almost completely gone. His shoulders shook and sweat beaded on his brow, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scent of sex in the air.

“You own him, darling,” she chuckled, pressing harder on your clit. “Mind, body, and soul.”

The orgasm swept over you, leaving your legs with the consistency of jello. Elle held you steady, withdrawing her hand, smirking wildly. Sam’s chest was heaving with each breath; you managed to keep yourself upright, glancing at the other woman as she returned to her drink.

“This is for your pleasure, Y/N,” she said, the smile still stretched across her impeccably painted lips. “Remember that and you have all the control you’ll need.”

You didn’t let Sam cum for three hours. By the time you rode him to completion, engaging in heated kisses with Elle as she described to him how beautiful you looked using him like he was made for, he was a mess.

His wrists were red raw where they were cuffed to the same frame you’d been tied to on numerous occasions. Sweat plastered his hair to his head and his thighs and buttocks were covered in whip marks, red and thick on his pale skin.

“See how pretty your canvas is?” Elle murmured, standing next to you, one arm around your bare waist.

Sam panted, head rolling to the side. “He looks exhausted,” you whispered, a small measure of satisfaction at a pseudo-revenge. You remembered how tiring it was to be edged, held from the brink by sheer will and need to please.

“He is,” Elle replied, stepping away. She’d finished most of the bottle of wine throughout the evening; you made a mental note to ask Benny to take her home. “Now it’s the hard part. Aftercare.”

You’d read enough articles about it to know what it was and you’d experienced it from both Sam and Dean. They were very attentive after playtime, usually drawing you a hot bath and making tea. On a few occasions, it had led to more sex, softer, gentle, that made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

“But that is between a dom and her sub,” Elle continued, picking up the empty wine bottle and draining her glass. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll ask Benny to take me home.” You nodded, smiling as she slipped out of the room.

Approaching Sam, you removed the blindfold, covering his cheek with one hand. “Hey,” you soothed, watching his pupils dilate and shrink as they adjusted to the sudden light. “How are you feeling?” It was a question he’d asked you before when you’d been in his position.

“Tired,” Sam mumbled, eyelids heavy. You leaned in, kissing him softly.

“Let’s get you showered and into bed,” you whispered.

The shower took only five minutes, with Sam practically slumped against the wall the entire time. He didn’t put too much weight on you as you helped him back to the bedroom, sitting down with him until he was comfortably snug in the covers.

He was out cold before you’d stood up. Satisfied he wouldn’t wake, you slipped from the bedroom, not bothering with clothes before heading down to the lounge. Dean was on the couch, fast asleep, his bare feet propped on the cushions, mouth open as he snored.

You shook your head in exasperation, leaning over the back of the couch. “Dean,” you hissed, shaking him. His eyes snapped open, panic on his face for the briefest of seconds before he grinned lazily.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he drawled, the pet name dragging out as he yawned. “What time is it?”

“Time you were in bed. Sam’s asleep.”

“Wore him out, huh?” Dean grinned, no stranger to his brother’s kinks. “Maybe he’ll be a little more bearable in the office from now on.”

You chuckled, patting the cushions. “Come on. You’re cooking breakfast in the morning.” He blinked at that.

“I am?” Ignoring the question, you headed toward the bedroom, sending Dean scrambling after you. “Y/N, wait!”

Being pregnant in the summer sucked.

Mostly.

It was ridiculously hot in the city and you were reluctant to even step outside, preferring the air-conditioned penthouse. Dean had suggested a holiday but the third trimester had brought the return of morning sickness, and sickness in general, leaving not much room for fun.

Surprisingly, Sam was home more, worrying over you like a mother hen, driving you up the wall. While you were more than happy to have sex, being the only thing you actually enjoyed, he was a little withheld, obviously still concerned about hurting you.

You weren’t about to let him get away with that again.

Dean’s side of the bed was cold when you woke on Thursday morning, Sam still snoring next to you. It must have been early, although you weren’t surprised Sam was still sleeping since he’d been up until 2am arguing with a lawyer about a proposal they were trying to push through on some building or another.

You’d gone to bed with Dean, but you’d woken up when the younger brother had finally joined you.

Rolling over, you groaned as the sheets stuck to you, your bladder clamoring for relief. The baby wasn’t moving much as you got up but the second you sat on the toilet, she was awake, slamming her heels into your insides like she was practicing for a soccer team.

“Fuck,” you grunted, one hand on your side.

Sam was awake when you returned to the bedroom, sitting up in bed looking at you in amusement as you hobbled back to the bed. He instantly pulled you into his arms, kissing you softly. “Mornin’,” he murmured, grinning when his hand brushed your breast. “Damn, you’re gorgeous, you know that?”

“I don’t feel it,” you hummed, placing one hand on his face. “She’s pulverizing my insides.”

“Still think it’s a girl?”

“Guess we’re gonna find out soon,” you quipped back, referring to your afternoon appointment with the OBGYN. “You’re still coming?”

He gave you a look like you were insane to question it. “Wouldn’t miss it, you know that.” His eyes darted toward the door. “Think Dean had an early meeting.” You grinned, feeling his cock bounce against your thigh as he turned his hips, grinding them into you. “Wanna kill some time?”

Nodding, you didn’t have a chance to speak before he was kissing you breathless, one hand trailing down to the wetness between your thighs. His fingers pushed your thighs apart, dipping into your sex, groaning when he found you soaked.

“Always so ready for me, pretty girl.”

You gasped when he thrust two fingers inside you, scissoring them until he found your sweet spot. A drawn-out moan left your lips and you clutched his bicep, closing your eyes as pleasure washed over you. Sam knew what he was doing, knew every single button to push - the only time you didn’t cum was when he didn’t want you to.

“Get on your knees, facing the mirror,” he commanded. You obeyed without protest, scrambling to the desired position, seeing your own reflection across the room. It was close enough to see every detail as Sam moved up behind you, one hand around his cock, the other sliding over your lower back.

“Sam -”

“Quiet,” he snapped. “Want you to watch.”

He penetrated you slowly, alternating his attention between your face in the mirror and his cock pushing into you. When he was fully inside, he grabbed your arms, pulling you upright.

“Can you see that?” he asked and you nodded, whimpering at the slight discomfort the position caused. One of his hands cupped the underside of your swollen stomach, his groan vibrating against your ear. Your eyes dropped to the root of his cock, barely visible where he was buried so deep.

Sam rolled his hips, pressing deeper and you gasped.

“You look so good all swollen like this, pretty girl,” he purred, mouth against your neck now. “Feel how deep I am?”

You whined loudly, feeling his fingers slip lower, tracing your puffy labia down to where his dick stretched your entrance.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you managed, unwittingly clenching around him, provoking a sinful growl to rumble against your skin.

“You’re my goddess,” he hummed, “the mother of my child.” He pushed you forward onto your hands. “My slut.”

“Yes.” The second round of your agreement with his words came at a much louder and higher pitch. Sam’s hands gripped your ass as he started to fuck you with long purposeful thrusts, dragging almost all the way out before slamming back in.

“You belong to me,” he snarled, the slap of his thighs echoing around the room. You just about managed to keep your head up when you came, suddenly not feeling so ridiculous about the mirror, only able to see the pure lust on Sam’s face as he slammed into you over and over.

It wasn’t long before he came, holding himself deep as he emptied into you. You collapsed onto your elbows, keeping the weight off of your belly, waiting for Sam to withdraw. He slapped your ass once, holding his palm against the heated flesh, smiling when he pulled away.

“Come on,” he murmured, lifting your chin to get you to look at him. “We should shower before we go anywhere.”


	4. Chapter 4

Your doctor at The Grace Clinic was a tall red-headed woman by the name of Josie Sands. She had a kind smile and didn’t take any shit from either Winchester, which made you like her more. Settling into the obstetrics waiting room alongside a few other expectant parents, you grinned at Sam. He’d been a nervous wreck since leaving the penthouse, bouncing his knee under his palm.

“What are you so worried about?” you asked, nudging him softly.

“Just, y’know, in case something is wrong.”

Rolling your eyes, you took his hand, stopping him from moving his leg. “Nothing is gonna be wrong, Sam. You’re thinking worst-case scenario.”

He looked up at you sadly, more pain than you wanted to experience in his big eyes. “I’ve always had to think that way,” he murmured, making your heart ache for him. You leaned in a little more, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to anymore,” you whispered, stroking his hand with your fingers. “Aren’t things better now?”

A smile spread across his face as he pulled back and looked down at you. “Better than they’ve ever been,” he replied, pressing his lips to yours softly.

The door to the office opened and Josie poked her head around, locating you and smiling. “Y/N Winchester?” 

You got up, tugging Sam with you. The nervous energy still made his shoulders tense; you knew anything you said wouldn’t make it better, so you let it go, knowing the scan would settle his worries.

“How are we today?” Josie asked, closing the door once you and Sam were inside. You made your way to the table, hopping up as the doctor walked around to the other side. Sam slipped into the chair beside you, his concern written all over his face.

“Good. She’s active,” you chirped, giving Sam a little smile and squeezing his hand. He returned the touch, eyes fixed on your belly as Josie pulled your shirt up over your bump. “Plenty of movement today.”

“Brilliant,” Josie murmured, watching the screen for a moment, tapping a few buttons. “Okay, this will be cold.” The warning was standard but you still hissed when the chilly gel landed on your navel. “Are you still wanting to know the sex?”

Sam met your eyes and you grinned. “Yeah, we wanna know.”

The red-headed doctor plucked the wand from its holder, pressing the tip into the gel smeared on your belly. There were a few moments of tense silence as she ran the implement over your skin, searching for your elusive progeny.

“Ah, there he is.”

Your eyebrows raised as Sam’s face split in two with a huge grin. “He?” he parroted, squeezing your hand excitedly. “It’s a boy?”

“Very much so,” Josie laughed. “Bit of an exhibitionist already.” Heat filled your cheeks and you looked at the screen as Josie pointed out the baby wriggling in your uterus. “Here, you see that? Definitely a penis.” You giggled at the screen, happy tears in your eyes.

“I was sure it was a girl,” you whispered.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked, leaning in a little closer to stare at the screen.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head, sniffing. “He’s perfect.”

Josie tapped a few buttons, squinting at the screen. “I’m just gonna take a few measurements and we’ll get some photos printed off for you.” You turned your head, looking at Sam, squeezing his fingers, choking out a sob when he suddenly kissed you.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“Love you too, you big softie,” you teased. Clearing her throat, Josie got to her feet, handing you a few paper towels.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” she said quietly, smiling as she slipped from the room.

Sam waited until the door was shut before kissing you again, deeper this time, pushing you back onto the bed. You squeaked in surprise, shoving at his shoulders. “What are you doing?” you laughed as he pulled back with darkened eyes.

“She said she was gonna give us a minute,” he purred, one hand running up the inside of your thigh.

“You’re the worst,” you chided, getting only a boyish smirk in return. “I’m not having sex with you in Josie’s office. Delinquent.”

Sam sat back, pouting. “Can’t help it. You’re just so sexy all swollen like that.” His words were a throwback to the morning he’d spent making you cum over and over, watching you in the mirror. You shuddered, feeling a familiar burst of heat in your core.

“When we get home,” you promised, your voice a little lower than before. Sam’s pout increased but you remained firm, cleaning off your stomach and avoiding eye contact with him. “Maybe in the car.”

His expression changed to triumph but the door opened, giving him no time to reply. Josie walked in with some paperwork and an envelope, smiling at you both as she sat down. “Let’s get these forms done, shall we?”

Your frustrated shout drew Dean into the kitchen where he found you in only your panties, too hot for any other clothing. His eyes darted to the counter, where the fresh bowl of extra hot chili steamed, a stained spoon next to it.

“Get out!” you screeched at your swollen stomach.

Dean chuckled, crossing the room. “They’ll induce you soon, right? Before you decide to kill someone?”

“Why do you think Sam isn’t here?” you snapped, glaring at him. “I went for a walk. I shopped until I couldn’t shop anymore. I’ve tried spicy food. I’ve tried _everything_.” Your voice rose an octave with your distress.

Reacting to your distress, Dean moved closer, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hasn’t Sam, y’know, tried to fuck you into labor?”

“Twice,” you replied miserably. “Last night and this morning.”

A smirk dragged his lips upward. “Maybe I should give it a go,” he suggested, leering at you.

Ordinarily, you would have told him to stop being a pig, but the thought of sex right at that moment was enough to have your third-trimester hormones going crazy. Dean’s eyebrows shot up when you pressed as close as your belly would allow.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Spinning you around, Dean tore your panties down your legs, giving you a second to step out of them before he tossed them away. “Can’t wait until you’re back to the no-panties rule,” he grunted, pushing you down with one hand between your shoulders.

“Shut up and fuck me,” you ordered, making him blink in surprise.

“Yes, ma’am,” he growled, unzipping his pants and shoving them down, letting his cock spring free. He was already hard and aching for you - your eyes crossed when the thick crown of his cock pushed into you, forcing a strangled moan from your lips.

Dean didn’t waste any time; he picked up a brutal pace, fucking you against the kitchen counter from behind. You gripped the counter, knocking the chili back hard enough for it to spill onto the marble surface but neither of you stopped.

Your scream echoed off of the tiled walls and something in your belly snapped with the force of your orgasm. Dean pulled out, glancing down at the soaked floor. “I think that worked.”

“You didn’t finish,” you whimpered, holding yourself up on the counter.

“I’m not sure that’s important right now,” he replied, giving you a strange look as he pulled his pants up. “We should call Dr. Sands.”

Your very first real contraction ripped through you, leaving you screaming silently and clinging to Dean’s arm, making him wince. “That sounds like a really good idea,” you mumbled, hoping they weren’t all going to be that bad. “And Sam?”

Dean smiled, nodding. “On it.”

Waking to a hand on your cheek wasn’t unusual but the stark white surroundings you woke to were definitely new. Confusion plagued you for a moment before you remembered, meeting Sam’s exhausted gaze.

“Hey,” he whispered, stroking hair back from your face. “How are you feeling?”

Everything ached. “Sore,” you replied, letting him help you sit up. You winced as you put more weight on your vagina than you wanted to and for a brief second, you swore no man would go near the damn thing again.

Across the room, the door opened and the nurse entered, a bassinet pulled behind her. She smiled as she walked in, bringing the wheeled crib up to the side of your bed and you smiled widely.

“Someone wants his mama,” the nurse singsonged, scooping Henry from the crib, his little green blanket wrapped tightly around him. You opened your arms willingly, forgetting about every ounce of pain and agony that had led to that moment. Forty-three hours of your life were wiped out by the tiny life you’d created laying on your chest.

Sam beamed, thanking the nurse as she left you alone. Henry gurgled, waving his arms as newborns did, the little mitts on his tiny hands preventing him from scratching his face. Dragging your t-shirt up, you held him close, hoping he’d latch on as easily as he had last night.

“Can’t believe he’s here,” Sam murmured, sitting down on the bed beside you, watching in fascination as his son found what he wanted, hungrily suckling at your breast. “Less than a day old and I already love him more than anything I’ve ever loved in my life.”

You smiled at that, tears in your eyes as you looked up at your husband. “Can we not?” you laughed. “I’m still flooded with hormones here.”

Sam chuckled under his breath, placing one hand underneath Henry’s tiny head. The boy was so small he fit in the crook of his father’s forearm and the way Sam looked at him took your breath away. “I’m not even twenty-four hours into this,” he mumbled, “and I don’t understand how our dad…”

The sympathy on your face was not well-disguised and Sam smiled tightly, meeting your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “At least Henry won’t ever know that childhood.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Sam promised, leaning in to drop a kiss to his son’s dark hair. “Never gonna let anything happen to either of you.” His next kiss was for you and you smiled against his lips, feeling more happy and complete than you ever had before.

The door opened to reveal Dean, who carried a large stuffed bear, a bright blue balloon, and a bag of Biggersons. He grinned, closing the door with his foot as quietly as he could, crossing the room to look down at his nephew.

“Damn,” he whistled, “you two make cute babies.”

Sam practically beamed with pride, chest puffing out. Placing the bear and the balloon on the chair near the bed, Dean dropped the takeout bag between your knees. “Oooo, what did you bring me?”

“Double bacon with cheese and a side of sweet potato fries,” Dean chuckled, sitting down next to the bear. “Knew you’d be hungry with all that pushing yesterday.” 

“It wasn’t as much as I thought it would be,” Sam commented. “I mean… yesterday morning we were still counting down until his due date and now… he’s here.” You smiled, eyes back on your son as he finished feeding, yawning widely, eyes closed. “He’s as impatient as his uncle.”

Dean glared at Sam. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do I need to tell Y/N about what you said this morning?” Sam shot back and you winced, shaking your head.

“Quiet,” you hissed, covering up and ignoring Dean’s look of dismay. “I heard what he said yesterday when we were driving here. About how it’s his turn now.” The elder Winchester had the grace to look sheepish as Sam smirked, pleased he’d sort of won. “I can assure you, neither of you is touching me for at least a week.”

Henry gurgled again, settling when Sam took him, rocking him in his huge arms. “You should get some more sleep,” he urged, stroking his son’s head, staring down at him in awe. “Dr. Priskle said you could leave tomorrow provided they’re happy with Henry’s feeding.”

“That’s good,” you sighed, yawning as you settled back on the pillows. “Are you gonna stay?”

Sam grinned, sparing you a glance. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean got up, pointing at the bag of food. “Make sure you both eat. I’m gonna go home and finish the last few bits in the nursery.” He snorted as he headed for the door. “Get some rest, sweetheart.” The door clicked softly shut behind him.

“At least a week, huh?” Sam teased, lowering his son into the bassinet, watching him with shining eyes as the baby stretched, yawned, and slowly dozed off.

“Oh, shut up,” you groaned, reaching for the food. “Or I’ll make it two.”


	5. Chapter 5

The first few nights at home were _hell_.

Your paranoia had you dragging the crib from the nursery into the bedroom, surprising Sam in the middle of the night. He’d rolled over with a slight grunt, too tired to deal with it.

Henry hadn’t slept well. Not in the beginning. He was grumpy, screeching from dawn to dusk and back to dawn again. Everyone you spoke to said it was normal, babies cried, but you felt like a failure. Neither of the brothers could make the boy settle and all three of you were exhausted.

Moving the crib into the bedroom only decreased the sleep you were getting.

On the third day, you were about to snap, deciding something must be wrong, despite Sam saying you were overreacting. You dressed in a hurry without showering, finding Dean already in the lounge with Henry, trying to soothe the exhausted child to sleep. He was grizzling quietly in his uncle’s arms and you stopped in the doorway, folding your arms over your chest.

“_He wants to dream like a young man_ -” Dean’s voice was low, slightly off-key, but it surprised you all the same. Holding back, you leaned against the wall, smiling as he continued, smiling down at his nephew. “_With the wisdom of an old man_,” he hummed, tapping the baby’s nose lightly, “_he wants his home and security, he wants to live like a sailor at sea_.”

Sam’s hand landing on your shoulder made you jump but you didn’t say a word, letting your husband slide his arms around your waist.

“_Beautiful loser_,” Dean sang, getting a little louder, swaying as Henry went quiet, eyes drooping. “_Where you gonna fall_?” The baby yawned, stuffing his fist into his mouth as he curled the other hand into Dean’s shirt. “_When you realize, you just can’t have it all_.”

Your jaw dropped as Henry sighed, eyes completely shut. Dean grinned, still moving, still singing.

Sam’s hand slipped down, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I told you,” he whispered, “it’s just about making him feel at home.”

Dean’s head lifted, his eyes meeting yours across the room. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“How long have you been hiding baby whisperer skills?” you retorted, narrowing your eyes. “You told me you tried everything.”

“Well, if you’d left the room once in a while, that would have been true,” Dean snapped playfully, making Sam laugh when you growled in irritation. “Anyway, getting him to sleep is the easy bit.” His gaze turned to the moses basket, his shoulders heaving with a deep breath. “Let’s see if he stays that way.”

You held your breath as he moved to the basket, slowly lowering Henry down onto the padded surface. His little hands stretched and he yawned again before settling.

“Maybe he’s worth keeping around,” Sam quipped, kissing the spot below your ear. “We should get some rest.”

Shaking your head, you turned to Sam. “One of us should stay here, just in case -”

The baby monitor Sam produced was already working and he gestured to the other one sat on the table that you hadn’t noticed. “You can’t hover over him his whole life, Y/N. The apartment is secure. He’ll be fine for a little while and we’ll hear him when he wakes up.”

“You know we can’t have sex, right?” you reminded him. “Doctor said -”

“I know,” Sam chuckled, cupping your cheek.

An idea sprang into your head, making your stomach clench in arousal. Going without sex for so long hadn’t seemed a problem when you’d been in the hospital, unwilling for any man to touch you below the waistline ever again. But being home, surrounded by the scents of your two lovers…

It wasn’t really the sex you missed. It was _them_.

“Do we really need to rest right away?” you whispered, walking your fingers up Sam’s chest. “I mean, just because sex is off the table…”

Dean was there in the next second, pulling you from his brother’s hold. “What are you thinking?” he mused, thumb catching on your bottom lip. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Tell us what that dirty little mind conjured up.”

You grinned, tugging out of his hold and turning to the bedroom. As you walked away, you pulled your shirt off, dropping it to the floor and pausing to give them a smirk over your shoulder. “You’ll have to follow me,” you dropped your yoga pants, leaving you in only socks and a bra, “and find out.”

Without waiting, you walked on, disappearing into yours and Sams’ bedroom, tossing your bra through the doorway just for them.

They appeared seconds later, both shirtless. Dean made a beeline for you as Sam dropped the baby monitor onto the bedside table. When his elder brother scooped you off the floor, Sam frowned, calling out to him. “Dude! She did only just have a baby.”

Scoffing, Dean dropped you anyway, pouting at his brother. “I’m fine,” you chided, poking your tongue out. “Why are you both still wearing clothes? Because my ideas require nakedness. From you at least.”

Sam’s eyes traveled the length of your body, ending at the ridiculous sheep socks your mom bought you for Christmas. “You’re naked,” he pointed out.

You wiggled your toes. “I’ve got socks on. It counts.”

Dean was already stripping down to nothing, joining you on the bed. Instantly, you rolled into him, giggling when he captured your lips with his own. Grunting his displeasure, Sam disrobed, making the bed dip under his weight as he occupied the other side of the bed.

“Hmmm,” you broke the kiss, patting Dean’s cheek, “that was nice. But -” You climbed off of the bed, kneeling on the floor, giving them both a seductive look. “I kinda need you standing.” Both men arched an eyebrow, looking at each other before moving. They were already hard; you licked your lips in anticipation, reaching for them.

“This is your plan?” Dean asked, groaning when you licked the tip of his cock. You repeated the action on Sam, who smirked down at you, tilting his head a little.

“Are you complaining?” you retorted. “Because I can still get myself off…”

“Dean,” Sam growled, “shut up and let her do what she wants.”

A smug expression covered your face as you looked up at them from your knees. You had to raise yourself higher, seeing as they were so tall, which made your kneecaps grind against the floor. Sam frowned, prying your fingers off his dick to grab a pillow from the bed.

He crouched down, getting you to lift each knee in turn so he could tuck the pillow underneath. Considering he was naked, you had his brother’s cock in your hand, and you were about to give them both blowjobs, it was a very gentlemanly thing to do.

Your cheeks heated up as he got back to his feet, taking your hand to replace it around the base of his shaft, giving you a smile.

“Continue,” he gestured, ignoring Dean’s snort of laughter.

You grinned, moving your hands in a matching rhythm, stroking them from root to tip. Both men groaned, their reactions exactly the same; their heads tipped back, lips parted, chests heaving and eyes closed.

This was the power you had over them.

Keeping your hand moving on Sam’s cock, you turned your face toward Dean, sucking the tip of his dick between your lips. He grunted, looking down with lidded eyes, watching you take him an inch at a time. When you reached halfway, your throat protested and you pulled back, taking a deep breath before attempting it again.

His cockhead brushed over your tongue with ease, prompting a low rumble from the elder brother’s lips. He placed a hand on the back of your head, rolling his hips to force himself deeper, fucking your throat as you’d intended.

After a few seconds, you pulled back; Dean released you, his dark gaze following your movements as you replaced your mouth with your fingers and turned to Sam. The younger man breathed heavily through his nose, unable to stop watching as you did to him what you’d done to Dean.

Sam didn’t fuck your throat or make a move to touch you. He let you take your time with his slightly more sizeable manhood, only able to get three-quarters of it past your lips. It was enough to make him growl low in his chest, nostrils flared as he saw your throat bulge.

“Such a good little slut,” he purred, running one hand through your hair. “But where are we gonna cum, pretty girl?”

“On me,” you replied, gasping when you pulled away. “Want you both to cum on me.”

Your hands were still moving on both of them. Keeping your hand tight around the base, you dragged up, mesmerized by the way they throbbed in your palms. “Dirty girl,” Dean groaned, pulling back, away from your grip. “How about you kneel properly and we’ll give you exactly what you want?”

Sliding back, you released Sam, nodding emphatically. The brothers laughed in unison, both of them moving to stand side by side. You parted your thighs, lowering yourself down and wincing at the still sensitive parts between your legs.

When the slight pain made your core throb, you felt your cheeks heat up, slightly ashamed at your own kink. “Still hurts?” Sam asked and you nodded. “Touch yourself, princess. Make yourself cum.”

Pressing one hand between your legs, you easily found your clit, already swollen with your desire. Dean’s eyes got darker as he watched you touching yourself, his own hand working furiously at his cock.

“Can’t wait until I can fuck you again,” he ground out, “feels like a waste of cum. Should all be inside that pretty little cunt.”

“Sounds like someone wants to breed you,” Sam murmured, amused at his brother’s impatience. “You’re gonna have to wait.”

You were already losing the fight against your own pleasure, letting your eyes fall shut. Both men were grunting now, masturbating hard enough for you to hear the slick of their palms on their dicks. The lingering thoughts of how good it felt to have Dean cum inside you, to have either of them cum inside you, were only amplifying your need to climax.

“That’s it, princess,” Dean snarled, “cum for us.”

With a cry, you ground yourself down against the pillow, pulling your hand away when the stimulation became too much. A split second later, Dean started to climax, shortly followed by Sam, both of them coating your tits and chin with their spendings.

You fell back onto your ass, grinning wildly when the brothers stumbled to the bed. Spotting Dean’s pants, you grabbed them, using them to wipe the sticky residue from your skin, seconds before Sam’s strong arms reached down, hauling you up with them, pinning your body between both of theirs.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he mumbled, kissing you softly, apparently not caring about the stickiness that still lingered on your skin.

“I know,” you whispered, winking.

“Ugh,” Sam grunted, shaking his head. “Dean is rubbing off on you.”

“Not right now I’m not,” Dean groaned, almost asleep against your shoulder. “I haven’t done anything for like a week. That was intense.” You giggled, surprised he’d abstained for so long; Dean took offense to the sound of your laughter. “Hey, we had other things going on and… I was tired.”

“Speaking of tired,” you yawed widely. “I think I’m gonna sleep before Henry wakes up again.”


	6. Chapter 6

You thought you’d been unbearable when you were heavily pregnant, going overdue and out of your mind. But apparently, that was nothing compared to not being allowed to fuck. Properly anyway.

It had only taken two weeks for you to beg Sam for what you wanted but he refused, punishing you with three hours on the breeding bench and a thorough spanking that still made your asscheeks sting four days later. Your skin was mottled and bruised and every time you sat down; you couldn’t focus on anything but how horny you were.

Three weeks in and you attempted to seduce Dean, being the far easier swayed out of the two brothers.

But that had landed you with a seventy-two-hour orgasm ban when he instantly betrayed you to Sam.

You didn’t really care about cumming. You just wanted one of them to fuck you.

Four and a half weeks in, Sam had taken Henry to the park, leaving you and Dean alone. Slipping from the lounge where he was watching a documentary on classic car builds, you headed for the bedroom, stripping down to nothing. Grabbing the handcuffs, you returned to the lounge, stopping in the doorway, dangling the cuffs from one finger.

“Sir?” you whispered huskily.

Dean’s head turned, his pupils dilating and jaw clenching when he saw what you were doing. “Y/N…”

“I’ve been really bad, sir,” you continued, walking around the couch toward him. He shifted, one hand palming his crotch where his dick was starting to make an outline in the denim. “And I really need you to punish me.”

“Y/N, we can’t, you got another nine days,” he protested.

“Felt fine this morning when I was fucking myself with that pink dildo,” you purred, dropping to your knees and reaching for his pants. He batted your hands away, shaking his head as he got up. You pouted, sitting back on your feet. “Dean!”

The whine stopped him in his tracks and he turned back to see you on the verge of tears.

“Don’t you want me anymore?”

Horror filled his face, the space between his eyebrows shrinking with his frown. “Are you dumb?” he asked, obviously upset at the insinuation. “I just don’t wanna get my ass kicked by Dr. Sands or my brother.”

“I know my body, Dean,” you replied dryly. “And right now, you and Sam are denying me the only thing I want!” Pouting again made his resolve visibly weaken. “Besides,” you got to your feet, abandoning the cuffs in favor of looping your arms around his neck, letting him feel you against his erection, “I thought you wanted to breed me?”

His answering groan was followed by his hands on your bare ass and his lips descending to yours. You smiled against his mouth, triumphant. “You’re a sly little bitch, you know that?” Dean growled, hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. Your shit-eating grin didn’t fade as he carried you to his bedroom.

“Oh, I’m aware,” you giggled. “It’s something you taught me.”

“Sam’s gonna kill me,” he warned. “Might wanna make this the best sex ever.”

“Is that the wish of a dying man?”

The teasing riled him up and he tossed you as soon as he was close enough to the bed, making you shriek in laughter when you landed. Dean didn’t waste any more time, stripping his shirt and pants off, the boxers going with them.

You didn’t have a chance to react when he grabbed your legs, hauling you down the bed and lowering his mouth to your thigh. His tongue danced over the ‘D.W.’ engraved on your skin, opposite his brother’s initials.

“Dean,” you hummed, arching when he dragged his tongue up to your soaked cunt.

“Missed this beautiful pussy,” he snarled, thrusting his tongue inside you. Your toes curled at the ferocity of his attack and you grabbed the covers above your head, lifting your ass to meet his mouth. He was balanced with one knee on the bed, one foot on the floor, which couldn’t have been comfortable but he appeared to be too preoccupied with making you cum with his tongue to care.

Each gasp of his name went ignored as he chased his prize, zeroing in on your clit, sucking the neglected little bud between his lips. You cried out, so close you could taste it, and Dean kept going, wanting more than just screams.

Your body fought against the excess of stimulation, each muscle tensing and releasing until you were a sweating, sobbing mess. Still, Dean kept going, determined to get what he wanted. With his mouth latched on to your clit, he pressed two fingers inside you, as deep as they could go, finding that sweet spot that literally made your eyes cross behind closed lids.

A rush of warmth on your thighs and the sudden release of pressure in your belly, along with Dean’s satisfied moan, announced his victory. He lapped up everything you had to give, grinning when he finally lifted his head, your slick still on his chin. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he crawled up your body, settling his hips between your thighs.

The tip of his cock grazed your thigh, reminding you why you were there.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, lazily sucking at one nipple. You grabbed his face, pulling him closer to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. “I’ll take that as good.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted,” you scolded, frowning when Dean chuckled in return. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” he replied, nuzzling your cheek, “and how impatient you are for cock.”

You lifted your legs, rolling your hips until his shaft laid against your pussy, hot and heavy against your swollen labia. “I’m impatient alright,” you muttered, kissing him again. “Fuck me, Dean.”

“I don’t take orders from you, princess,” Dean reminded, pulling back enough to slip a hand between your bodies. The thick crown of his dick slid past your outer lips, making you coo happily at the stretch. He stopped with only an inch inside you; your frown returned, his cocky grin irritating. “Sam’s not the only one who gets to punish you.”

You groaned, digging your nails into his shoulders as he rocked gently, his knees stopping any further penetration. Instead, the motion of his lower half forced you to feel the ridge of his cockhead splitting you open, slowly and purposefully.

“I could keep you like this for hours,” he taunted, leaning on his elbows, watching you wriggle fruitlessly underneath him. “Only letting you have the taste of it…”

“Goddammit, Dean,” you growled, clenching around him in an attempt to entice him deeper. Dean only laughed, dragging back and repeating the slow penetration.

“Beg me,” he whispered, his confident tone make you choke out a groan. “Beg me to give you my dick, sweetheart. Beg to be my little slut again.”

“Gah.”

He grinned. “I didn’t hear you properly.”

“Please, sir,” you whimpered, pussy flexing around him. “Wanna be your little slut again. Want you to fuck me, fill me up with that big cock.” Dean groaned, giving another inch - you continued, finally getting what you wanted. “Want you to fuck me until I’m screaming, until you can’t hold it anymore.” Another inch and you gasped, throwing your arms around his neck, clinging to him, your mouth right next to his ear.

Dean growled and you knew you were going to win.

“Want you to cum inside me, fuck me pregnant,” you paused, feeling his body start to shake. “_Sir_.”

His snarl was the only warning you had. Lifting up, Dean thrust into you, filling you with a single stroke. You cried out, clutching at the sheets, back arched and shoulders tense. For a second, he held still, letting you feel him throbbing inside you.

“You got what you wanted,” Dean hummed, sliding his right arm under your left leg, hoisting your thigh up as far as it would go, bending your knee of his shoulder. The move shifted his cock deeper and you whined, unable to prevent your pussy tightening around him. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight.”

A noise left you; in your head, it was something sexy but your lips only managed to form a few nonsensical vowels.

Thankfully, Dean wasn’t listening, too busy trying not to cum in three seconds. He’d underestimated how much he’d missed having sex with you.

“Dean,” you mumbled, panting for breath, “you’re gonna have to move.”

“I know,” he growled, lifting his head. “I’m just… I really missed you and -” He sighed. “I’m not gonna last.”

“You don’t have to.” When you clenched, Dean groaned. “Fuck, Dean, just fuck me already!”

It was not his best performance but you were so relieved to just feel him again, you didn’t care. Within seconds he was finishing, pumping furiously against you as he came, before capturing your mouth in a kiss that was all too sweet considering the coarse language you’d been using.

Dean rolled off, landing on his back, panting just as heavily as you. The warmth of his seed on your inner thighs made you shudder and you turned your head toward him, catching your breath. “You know,” you murmured, “you could have me all to yourself for the next nine days if we don’t tell Sam.”

His laughter was a little mocking - shifting onto his side, he propped his head up on his elbow. “Sweetheart, we won’t have to tell Sam,” he chuckled. “You really think he won’t notice the change in you?”

“Fuck,” you grunted, looking back up at the ceiling.

Dean kept laughing, shaking his head. “On the upside, when he sees that sex hasn’t hurt you -” His fingers were wandering over your thigh, creeping toward your pussy as his renewed erection prodded your thigh. “He might be a little more… flexible.”

_Four Months Later_

The air was brisk outside and you were glad you’d remembered to put extra layers on Henry. He was sleeping in his stroller, one fist curled between his gums - he’d slept like that since day one. Dean had commented that Sam had the same habit when he was a baby, a thought that made Sam swell with pride.

Your two lovers were across town, locked in negotiations that you didn’t know or care to know anything about. It was Wednesday anyway, your day, something that hadn’t changed; only in that you now had Benny accompanying you, along with Henry of course.

Sam would probably pitch a fit when he saw the credit card bill from Baby Gap but you couldn’t resist all the cute little outfits. As someone who’d never really expected to be a mom, you were surprised just how much you enjoyed your little boy. Six months in and you already had more photos than you’d ever know what to do with.

“You hungry, Benny?” you asked, looking up at the gloomy sky. “It looks like it’s gonna rain.”

“Want me to get the car?” he offered.

“No. I thought we could head over to -”

“Y/N?”

You paused, frowning at the familiar voice. Turning, you kept one hand on the stroller, trying not to jump in surprise at the sight of Jo, emerging from the Verizon store you’d just passed. “Jo?”

Your former friend jogged up, wrapping her arms around you. Benny was on edge, hesitant about the small blonde, and you met his eyes, holding up your free hand to let him know it was okay. “God, I was so worried. Your mom said you were fine and that -”

Henry woke up on cue, a slow grizzle becoming a full-fledged wail in seconds. Jo’s eyes widened, her gaze dropping to the stroller.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “this… this is my son. Henry Winchester.”

You didn’t miss the slight frown that creased her brow, even as she leaned in to get a good look at the baby. “I think he’s due his feed,” Benny commented. “There’s a coffee shop at the end of the block.” You offered Jo an apologetic smile.

“Hey, won’t don’t I come with you?” she said, not looking up. “I’m not - don’t worry. I’m not on duty or anything.”

“If I remember correctly,” you mused aloud, “this isn’t your jurisdiction.”

Her cheeks turned red as she finally lifted her attention from Henry. “I’m based out of precinct nine. Got transferred a few months ago.” Digesting that information was hard; you lifted your chin, eyeing her as she smiled awkwardly. “Look, how about we go for coffee and chat? Like old times. I’ll fill you in.”

Meeting Benny’s concerned gaze, you exhaled softly, feeling the first few droplets of rain starting to fall.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that.”


	7. Chapter 7

The coffee shop was empty of most customers but that didn’t surprise you with the time. Jo selected a booth at the back of the store and you invited Benny to sit with you - he automatically shielded you from view as you tucked Henry into one arm, lifting your top with the other.

You draped your muslin over your shoulder, covering him from anyone who might look over before smiling up at Jo. “Sorry,” you chuckled, “I’m a one-woman feeding station.”

“Easier than carrying bottles and asking for a microwave,” Jo replied, smiling at you warmly. “He’s beautiful.”

Pride swelled in your chest like it always did. You hadn’t done many good things in this life but you felt like Henry was one of them. “Thank you.”

“How’s motherhood?”

“Pretty good. Tiring,” you joked, “but I love it. I love him.” The server approached with your drinks, halting all conversation as he placed them on the table. When he turned his back to walk away, you smiled at Jo. “So, tell me about this move?”

Folding her hands around her coffee, Jo slid it closer, giving you a look you knew all too well. There was a break-up involved. “Well, I moved in with Jake.” Oh, yeah, definitely a break-up. “But it, I dunno, deteriorated. I was working a lot and… he didn’t seem to like being the girlfriend of a cop.”

“You ended it?” Jo bit her bottom lip and gave Benny a sidelong look at your question. “It’s okay. Benny ignores pretty much anything you say unless you ask him a direct question. I trust him.” It was obvious that didn’t entirely convince her but she continued anyway.

“I walked in on him with Betty from the roadhouse,” she muttered, clearly still pissed. “She was on the rug my mom bought us as a housewarming present, legs in the air calling him ‘Daddy’.” You pulled a face, the mental image disgusting you. Jo sighed, leaning on one elbow, her chin propped on her palm. “And that was that.”

She was lying and you smirked. “Come on,” you chided, “I know you, Jo. You wouldn’t let something like that just… drop.”

Jo swallowed, laughing nervously. “For the most part, I did.”

“What did you do?” you asked curiously.

“Aside from beating the hell outta him and tossing that skank out onto the street with no pants?” Jo shrugged, giving you a sly smile. “I might have made his frequent coke and drunk-driving problem a known issue around town. Wasn’t long before he lost his license, then his job…”

You laughed, the sound disturbing Henry for a second before he regained his latch onto your nipple, happily guzzling away. There was a slight pain from where his first tooth was starting to push through the gum; you winced, hoping he’d be full soon.

“He paid for it. I wanted a fresh start and I’d kept in contact with Claire after -” She went quiet, sighing softly. “She said there was a vacancy in her precinct so I signed myself up.”

“Funny how it’s in such close proximity,” you pointed out and she nodded, avoiding your eyes.

“I know, but it wasn’t actually intentional. We’re only based out of the ninth for the next three months. I’m actually assigned to eleventh but the building is being renovated because of asbestos.” Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, she lifted her cup to sip at the hot coffee. “I can even take you over to the eleventh if you want -”

Benny nudged you, smiling a little in amusement and you chuckled. “It’s okay. I know there’s always gonna be something to do with the police going on. I’m not an idiot - I know who I’m married to.” Henry detached from your breast, gurgling as he pulled at the cloth. You moved it over your shoulder, covering yourself up before lifting Henry onto your shoulder.

“You’re okay though?” Jo asked, concern in her eyes. 

“I’m good,” you reassured her. “I promise. I have nothing to hide. Not anymore.”

Your old friend relaxed a little. “There’ve been rumors. A lot of… I dunno, whispers.”

Benny’s head jerked up. “Rumors, cher? You wanna be careful what you’re sayin’.”

“Not about the Winchesters. More about someone else in the city. The ninth has got an entire task force working the underground.” Jo picked her drink up again, giving Benny a look. “You’re Benny LaFitte, right?”

He grinned. “I am.”

“Then you know the underground,” she assumed. “And you know what I’m talking about.”

Shaking his head, Benny glanced at you and Henry, who promptly belched as loudly as any six-month-old could. “Nothin’s come up on my radar. Sam and Dean would know about it. Whatever it is, they got nothin’ to do with it.”

“I know that,” Jo said. “In all honesty, I don’t know what it is. I only know what I hear and what I’m hearin’?” She sucked in a breath, chewing the inside of her mouth. “It ain’t much but it’s worrying.”

Henry wailed, bored with being on your shoulder; you shifted him to sit on your lap, picking up the little cookie on the side of your decaf latte and handing it to him. Instantly, his little hand grabbed hold of it, attacking it with his gums. “There’s nothing I can do, Jo. Nothing I want to know. I’m not in that life anymore.” You looked at your old friend fondly. “Even if there is something going on… I’m not putting Henry in that position.”

Jo smiled as Henry shrieked at her, offering his soggy cookie across the table to her. “I get it. Just… watch out for yourself, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” you assured her. “I will.” Leaning back, you watched as Henry decided to keep his cookie, grinning as he chowed down, crumbs covering him. “I got this little man to protect.”

“He’s adorable,” Jo giggled, reaching over to offer her finger. Henry grabbed it and shook it before his attention went back to his snack. “It really suits you. Being a mom, I mean.” She paused, pulling out her phone. “Listen, my mom asks if I’ve seen you like, every other day. You might if I take a picture to send it to her? I’ll delete it right away after.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Don’t be silly, you don’t have to delete it. Benny, you mind getting one of me, Henry, and Jo?”

“You went out for coffee with her?”

As you’d expected, Sam wasn’t very pleased with the revelation of where you’d spent your Wednesday afternoon. In addition to the long-ass and unproductive negotiations, it wasn’t the best news he’d had all day and he didn’t feel like it was going to get better.

“Yeah because I’m a grown-up. She wasn’t investigating anything to do with us. She’s not even supposed to be at the ninth precinct.”

Sam scoffed, shaking his head from where he leaned against the doorframe, watching you bathe Henry. The baby squealed and splashed his rubber duck into the water, giggling with glee as he soaked you, the floor, and everything else. “Can’t believe you bought that crap.”

“Benny confirmed it,” you replied, truthfully. “And I’m not stupid enough to tell her anything -”

“Hello?!” Dean’s voice echoed down the hallway and Sam straightened, keeping his arms folded across his chest as he looked over his shoulder to call back to his brother. You grunted with annoyance at the interruption, attempting to remove the rubber duck from Henry’s grasp so you could wash his hair.

“Not that I know anything,” you finished, just as Dean appeared.

“Anything about what?” he asked, a little breathless.

Grimacing, Sam gestured to you. “Y/N had coffee with Jo today.” Dean didn’t recognize the name, frowning at his little brother, waiting for clarification. “The detective? That helped her?”

“Oh,” Dean shrugged, “she doing okay?”

“Am I really the only one concerned that she’s showing up _now_?” Sam cried, exasperated.

“Whoa, dude,” Dean chuckled, “what’s Y/N gonna tell her? You seriously questioning her trust?” That shut Sam up - he even had the grace to look sheepish, whereas you beamed at Dean’s defense. “Man, you need to chill.”

Sam scowled at that, turning away with a shake of his head. “Both of you are irritating as hell,” he growled, just as his phone started to ring in his pocket. He fished it out, answering right away. “Winchester.”

“You okay?” Dean asked, striding into the bathroom and kneeling down at the side of the tub. Henry shrieked happily when he saw him, splashing him with bubbles. “Hey, little man!”

“Daaaaaaaaaaan,” Henry replied, dribbling as he leaned over to try and grab Dean’s tie.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” Sam’s voice cut through the happy baby noises, drawing your attention away. You got to your feet, leaving Dean to watch Henry as you approached your husband. His face was almost white and he nodded dumbly, struggling for words. “Thank you… for, er, for letting me know. Thanks.” 

He hung up the call, meeting your eyes, his expression somber. “Dean?”

“What’s up?” Dean asked, not looking away from Henry as he played with him.

“It’s Mom.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the bathroom as Dean turned his head, seeing his brother’s face. Sam’s hands were shaking when you took his phone. “What about Mom?” Dean demanded apprehensively, getting to his feet.

The younger man’s voice shook as he spoke. “She’s… they found her this morning. She’s dead.”

Henry cooed as he gummed his teething ring, watching the three adults in the room with big hazel eyes. You bent down to wipe at his nose, grinning when he bared all of his gums to you in a smile, one hand swiping at yours.

“You’re being super good this morning,” you chuckled, pulling the cloth away from his face. He drooled in response, offering you the teething ring. “I’m good, thanks, champ.”

The door opened and Benny walked in, approaching Sam and handing him a manila file. “That all of it?” Sam asked and Benny nodded gruffly, turning on his heel to leave. This was family business and Benny wasn’t a Winchester, even if all three of you trusted him implicitly.

“Let’s have it,” Dean grunted, leaning forward from his position on the sofa. You sat up, resting yourself back against the cushions as Sam scanned the documents, placing one hand on the elder Winchester’s shoulder.

He didn’t acknowledge it, remaining quiet like he had done for the last two days since he’d heard his brother announce the death of their mother.

“Blunt force trauma to the head. Someone trashed the house to make it look like a robbery but nothing was taken.” Sam lifted his eyes, meeting Dean’s. “Set up?”

“Mom woulda handled a robber,” Dean muttered darkly. “This was a hit.” He shook his head, sighing heavily. “It’s Dad.”

“John?” you piped up, frowning. “But he’s in prison.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not responsible,” Sam dismissed. “Plenty of things money can buy you and Dad still has access to his private accounts. All he needs is a middle man.” Getting to his feet, Dean brushed past his brother, heading for the thick oak bureau sitting on the other side of the room. He unlocked it, pulling out an address book.

“This is every contact Dad ever had. His literal black book.” The book hit the coffee table with a thud, startling Henry - the boy began to wail, disliking the loud noise. You scowled at Dean, who offered a sheepish grin for disturbing the previously quiet child.

Sam swooped in before you could, tossing the paperwork onto the table with the book and lifting his son from the bouncy chair, hoisting him onto his shoulder. Henry instantly shrieked in delight, raising his arms as his father grinned at him.

“So what do we do?” you asked, smiling when Henry grabbed a fistful of Sam’s hair.

“We need to figure out who he hired,” Sam replied, pulling a face at the boy in his arms. Laughing, Henry tugged his father’s hair hard, making him yelp.

“Easier said than done,” Dean growled, folding his arms across his chest. “What about the funeral?”

“We arrange it. Keep it small.” Sam bounced Henry in his hold, suddenly more preoccupied with the child than anything else. “No one we don’t trust.”

“What about me?” Your question drew confused looks from both men and you got up, holding your hands out to Henry. He instantly threw himself backward toward you, making Sam almost drop him before he handed him off. “Your mother was not my biggest fan. I didn’t know her and… to be honest, I wouldn’t feel comfortable being there.” Henry blew a raspberry into his hand, smearing his sticky palm down your face. “It’s not exactly a child-friendly environment either.”

Dean shook his head at the same time as Sam. “You don’t need to be there.” 

“No,” Sam agreed, “you don’t. And Henry… he wouldn’t understand. You’ll be okay here, right?”

You chewed the inside of your mouth. “Actually… I was thinking I could go and visit my mom. She hasn’t been able to spend much time with Henry and… I kinda miss her.” Both men looked sympathetic at that. “I can drive myself or get the train.”

“I’d be happier if Benny dropped you out there,” Sam muttered. “How long are you thinking about staying?”

“A few days?” you suggested, knowing you’d go crazy spending too much time with your mother. You loved her to death but she was… overbearing, especially where it came to your relationship with the two brothers. “It’ll be nice,” you added, forcing a smile onto your face. Henry crashed his forehead against your shoulder, making you wince. “And besides, Mom will give me a rest from this one’s need for constant attention.”

Sam smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You talking about Henry or Dean?” Dean scowled and you laughed, moving Henry to the other hip.

“Both.”


	8. Chapter 8

Waking alone early, Henry’s cries echoed through the baby monitor, shortly followed by Sam’s soft greeting to his son, and you smiled, sitting up and listening to him shush the boy.

When it went quiet, you yawned, stretching as you climbed out of bed. Your eyes darted to Dean’s side of the bed, or the side he usually slept in. He hadn’t shared a bed with you and Sam since news of Mary’s death had reached him and you worried more than you normally did.

Dean was hurting and he was hiding it from you and Sam.

Padding down the hallway dressed only in a thin slip, you bypassed Henry’s room, where you could hear the Saturday morning cartoons on the television as Sam gave Henry his morning bottle. The sunlight was weakly filtering through the windows when you passed the kitchen, heading for Dean’s room.

The eldest Winchester brother was sitting on his bed, still wearing his clothes from yesterday. His back was to the door, shoulders hunched as he held something in his hands.

“Dean?” you whispered, suddenly unsure about disturbing him.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled. “I was expecting you to come find me sooner or later.”

Slipping into the room, you closed the door, knowing Henry was fine with Sam for a while. You stood on the other side of the bed, uncertain of what to do. Over his shoulder, you could see what he held in his hands; a framed photo of his mother and father, with baby Sam and toddler-sized Dean.

It was one you’d seen before but never really noticed. 

“We were a normal family once,” he said slowly - you moved around the bed, your heart dropping when you saw the tear tracks on his cheeks. “Sort of, anyway. They met in Kansas when my dad was a mechanic and my mom…” He laughed, shaking his head. “She waited tables at a truck stop.”

You sat down beside him, running one hand across his back to hug him, the other hand taking hold of the photo as he handed it to you.

“That was our house. Dad got drafted before he could even ask her out on a date, y’know?” He sniffed, wiping his face. “When he came back… a guy offered him a job for a lot of money. Dad took it and when he came back to Lawrence…”

“He was different,” you surmised, knowing the basics of their history. Once upon a time, John Winchester had been a simple man but war changes people. One job led to another and you knew what he’d brought down on his family in the end. “You said… your dad was a hitman, so what about -”

“I already checked out all of his contacts. No one heard anything about a contract he’d put out. But we can’t discount him using a source we don’t know about. Someone… off-grid.”

His shoulders were still tense, the muscles tightly coiled under his skin and you sighed, handing the photograph back. “We’re gonna find out who did it, Dean. If we don’t, the police will.” He snorted derisively. “Hey, I know you don’t like cops, but this was… it was my job, right? I know they’ll do their best.” 

The expression on his face screamed disbelief but he didn’t voice his opinion. Instead, he put the photo on the bedside table.

“What can I do?” you asked, angling your upper body towards him.

Dean fixed his eyes on you, traveling the length of your torso and further south. “You’re already doing more than you need to,” he whispered, leaning over and pulling you into his lap. You squeaked in surprise, giggling when he settled you with your thighs either side of his.

“What are you after?” you teased, placing your hands on his face, running your thumbs over the stubble on his jaw. His features were pinched tight, a question lingering on his lips. “Dean?”

“Promise me,” he murmured, reaching up to touch your chin with his thumb, pulling your mouth open a little. “We won’t be like that. Henry won’t… he won’t grow up seeing, knowing what we did.”

Frowning, you shook your head. “We won’t. I won’t let it happen.”

He pulled you into a deep kiss, his hands wandering up underneath the thin slip to find you bare. His cock was already hard against the seam of his pants and you ground down to feel more friction between you.

“Lemme fill you up,” he gasped, “put a baby in you. Let me breed you, sweetheart.”

You weren’t about to say no when he’d managed to get you hot and bothered in the space of ten seconds. “Fuck, Dean, please -”

He cut you off with a deep kiss, reaching between your bodies to push his pants down. You lifted in response, using your knees as leverage against the bed, whining when Dean took the opportunity to run two fingers through your soaked folds.

“So fucking wet for me, princess,” he growled, replacing his fingers with his dick. An impatient wiggle of your hips made him grin, his hold on his cock stopping you from sinking down onto him. “You want this?”

“You know I do,” you exhaled, crashing your lips into his. Dean’s patience wore just as thin as yours; he removed his hand, wrapping his arms around your waist to drag you down, fully penetrating you with one stroke. You shrieked, grabbing his shoulders, whimpering into his mouth as he started to bounce you on his lap.

He kept you quiet with kisses, the heat between you growing with each passing minute, his fingers tight against your rib cage, screwing up the material of your slip. The only sounds in the room became grunts, gasps, and the resounding slap of skin on skin.

“Gonna cum,” he warned, “don’t wanna.” Leaning his head against your shoulder, he pulled you down, holding you with his cock buried to the hilt. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

You sighed happily, buzzing with the sexual intimacy of the moment, clenching around him. “Wanna feel it, Dean,” you whispered, pulling his head back to make him look at you. “Want you to cum.” A hoarse chuckle made you grin and you started to rock slowly, dragging back and forth. Dean groaned, sliding both hands along your sides, tugging the slip up to bare your breasts.

“Wanna keep you here forever,” he hummed, catching one hard nipple between his lips. Since Henry had been born and you’d been breastfeeding, his oral fixation with your tits had gotten worse - or better, depending on your point of view.

Right now, his distraction was working to slow your movements but you were so close to the edge, you didn’t want to stop.

“Please, Dean,” you whined, tugging his hair between your fingers, “I need to cum. Need you to move.”

He groaned at that, cock twitching inside you. “You’re too impatient,” he chided, lifting his mouth from your breast. “Do I have to tie you up?”

“Later,” you promised, making his eyes darken. “You can do whatever you want to me, but right now -” You started to move your hips, gripping his shoulders. “I want you to fuck a baby in me.”

It was too much for even him to hold out against the pleas. Strong hands cupped your ass as Dean started to meet you thrust for thrust. Within seconds, you were crying out, the sound muffled when Dean dragged you into a sloppy kiss, his climax making him snarl into your mouth.

When it was done, you both fell quiet. Dean’s breathing evened out but he remained holding you in his lap, one hand tangled in your messy hair. “You sure you’re gonna be okay without us for a few days?” 

You laughed, kissing him softly. “I’ll survive. It’s only my mom.”

Two days into your stay at home, you actually realized you might not be okay without Sam and Dean for much longer. Your mother, although overjoyed to have a grandson she could dote on, went out of her way to make sure you knew with every fiber of your being that she did not approve of the life you’d chosen to live.

It was driving you nuts.

Right now, it was a softly spoken lecture on how lonely she was, how your brother never visited, how you barely contacted her. “I mean, I know you think you have this all under control,” she said, her tone sharp as she bounced Henry on her knee, pulling faces at him, “but I just need you to know that you always have a home here.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing heavily as you scrolled through your phone, reading articles that didn’t really interest you but made it easier to bear your mother’s disappointment and disapproval.

“I know, Mom.”

“He’s such a bonny little lad,” she cooed as Henry giggled and threw his arms up. “You’re going to be one handsome little man when you grow up. You’ll be fighting the ladies off.”

“Could we save the stereotypes until he’s old enough to walk?” you muttered, putting your phone down. “It’s a nice day. Why don’t we go to the park?”

Your mom peered out the window, grimacing. “Looks like it’ll rain soon.”

“Fine,” you grunted, getting to your feet. “I’m gonna go to the store. You need anything?”

The walk only took ten minutes and it was hard to leave Henry behind, even knowing your mom had successfully raised you and your brother without major incident. She’d be fine for thirty minutes or so while you escaped her constant motherly-ranting.

Benny pulled up to the curb, rolling down the window as he kept pace with you. “She’s driving you crazy, right?”

“You know,” you mused, stopping and turning to face him, arms folded over your chest, “you could actually stay with us instead of stalking us.”

He laughed at that, shaking his head, slowing the car to a stop. “Yeah but I gotta head back to the city. I think you’ve got things handled here.”

“Sam yanking your chain?” you teased.

Chuckling again, Benny grinned at you. “Now, cher, you know I’m paid very well to wear that chain. And there are a few things they’re struggling with before… y’know.”

The funeral.

You sighed, shaking your head. “When will you be back?”

“I’ll head back after it’s done,” he assured you, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “If Sam and Dean don’t decide to drive out here themselves, although -”

“My mother would pitch a fit if she saw them. She’s happy enough scolding me but I don’t know what she’d say to them.” You shuddered, looking down the street as the sky started to darken, the rain your mother had predicted looking more likely. “Gimme a ride to the grocery store?”

Benny gestured to the passenger side. “Hop in, cher.”


	9. Chapter 9

Sometimes it was nice to have the means to just hire a car and escape your mother. Being in town was harder than you thought it would be, especially after your encounter at the grocery store the day before. Benny had stayed with you when it started to rain, deciding he’d drive you back to your mom’s afterward.

You hadn’t been expecting to bump into Ben and his new girlfriend, Maxine. Even though it had been two years since you’d last seen him, you weren’t prepared for the emotional onslaught or the spite with which he’d treated you.

If Benny hadn’t been there, he might have said something worse. His new girlfriend was openly hostile, making you wonder if it was her inadequacy making her act that way or yours. Ben had been snide, clipped; he didn’t linger, giving Benny a filthy look, probably assuming he was one of the Winchesters.

After that, staying in town was harder than you thought. Watching Benny drive off, leaving you with your mother and her constant judgment, you’d considered calling him and asking him to turn around.

But the brothers needed him.

You resigned yourself to at least one more night, getting through it with gritted teeth. Each comment from your mom made you want to scream and by nine the next morning, you’d booked a car to drive yourself back to the city.

She’d protested, of course, citing the funeral, that you’d be alone in that awful city. You ignored her, deciding you’d rather spend the day at home, where people didn’t judge you.

As much, anyway.

The penthouse was a welcome sight as you pulled up, parking the car in the mostly-empty garage. Henry was sleeping, clipped into his car seat; he didn’t wake when you lifted him out of the rented Navara, carrying him up to the lobby.

No one was manning the desk, which wasn’t unusual for midday - Miguel was probably on his lunch. You carried on, heading up via the elevator, breathing a sigh of relief when you walked into your home, closing the door behind you.

Transferring Henry from car seat to cot was easy. He slept like a dream now, one thing you were grateful for. His only complaints came when he was hungry, much like his uncle, you noted in amusement. Checking he was settled, you grabbed the baby monitor headed back to the lounge, intending on passing out on the couch.

John Winchester was standing by the fireplace, his shadow filling the room. The baby monitor clattered to the floor, your eyes wide and darting to your purse on the table by the front door. He’d taken your phone out and placed it next to your bag.

“You can call them,” he promised, turning around. “When you’ve heard me out.”

“Y - you’re supposed to be in prison,” you whispered, horrified that he was anywhere near you. “How -”

“Sweetheart, I got more tricks than you _or _my boys know.”

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you regarded him. He looked like hell, the shirt and pants he wore were ill-fitting, obviously not his own. “Did you kill Mary?”

John’s face twisted into pain and anger. “No. I wouldn’t. I loved my wife, no matter how things ended between us.”

You shook your head, unsure what to think of that. It was most likely a lie but you remained quiet, edging toward your phone.

“Please don’t,” he pleaded. “I came here to warn you.”

“Warn me about what? You couldn’t wait until your sons were home to break in?”

“Had a key. This was my apartment once upon a time,” he ground out. “And out of the three of you, you’re the most reasonable. Dean and Sam… they lost their mom. It doesn’t matter what I say to them, they won’t believe me.”

“What makes you think I will?” you shot back, folding your arms over your chest.

“Because Mary was murdered by someone. Intentionally.” John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose when your obvious disbelief was reflected on your face. “I’m unarmed, Y/N. I didn’t come here to hurt you.” Gesturing to the couch, he offered you a hesitant smile. “Sit, please.”

“I’m good,” you replied tersely.

His smile became a frown as he realized you were very different from the last time you met. “I’m glad, you know,” he said slowly. “You’re the woman my boys needed.”

You lifted your chin, narrowing your eyes. “I didn’t ask you for compliments, John.”

John chuckled, moving cautiously toward you. “You didn’t ask last time either,” he muttered seductively, getting too close for comfort. Your reaction was instant - your hand collided with his face in a slap that resounded around the large room. He laughed again, touching his cheek gingerly. “Loyal. I like that.”

“I’m gonna give you ten seconds,” you instructed, brazenly turning your back on him to grab your phone. “And then I’m gonna call Sam.”

“Okay, okay,” John held up his hands, backing away, “I get it. Look, someone murdered Mary because she wouldn’t go through it.”

“With what?”

“She was being blackmailed to testify against me,” he pleaded, one hand on his chest. “Mary and I were a lot of things but we would never betray each other without good reason. I think they killed her when she stopped cooperating.”

“You think?” you spat. “That’s not a great reason to break outta jail, John.” You shook your head, pulling Sam’s number up. “I’m calling Sam.”

“No, wait, please,” John’s hand grabbed your wrist, sparking fright in your chest. Lifting wide eyes to him, it only took a second for fright to become rage. “Y/N, you’re in danger, you’re -”

Henry’s high-pitched wail filled the apartment, the baby monitor on the floor echoing it. You frowned, turning your head in the direction of the bedrooms. John’s gaze followed and you hesitated before pulling your wrist from his hold.

“That’s him?” John asked quietly, not looking at you.

“Yes,” you whispered, confirming his inquiry.

“Can… can I meet him?”

It was probably the worst idea considering you still thought he’d murdered his wife, that he was here to do more harm to your boys - because they were _yours _\- yet you slowly nodded. “You can. For five minutes.”

John’s smile was genuine and he stepped back. “Lead the way.”

For a second, you regarded him, wondering if it was a mistake, but Henry’s cries grew desperate. Then you heard it, another voice on the baby monitor, filling your heart with dread. A male tone, soothing your son, a voice you hadn’t heard before.

Before John could react, you were running for the bedroom, tumbling in through the door to see a man dressed in a suit holding your baby boy. “Ah, Mrs. Winchester,” the man greeted, cradling Henry in one arm, producing a gun with the other. You skid to a halt, heart in your throat at the weapon so close to your child. John appeared behind you, pulling out his own weapon - so much for “unarmed”.

“Put him down,” John ordered loudly.

The man’s snake-like eyes slid to him, his grin almost skeletal. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here, John. We were waiting for the boys to return. But this?” He chuckled, holding the gun on you. “This is so much better.”

“Let him go, Alastair,” John ground out, cocking the pistol his hands. You reached out, tears already falling.

“Please,” you whimpered, “I don’t know who you are, but… my son -”

Alastair smirked at you. “You know exactly who I am, Officer Y/L/N. Times come due, John. You never paid up. You owe a _debt_.” Coldness like you’d never known soaked into your bones when he looked down at your son. “And this is your payment.”

John couldn’t make a shot without hurting Henry. You knew he’d been a hitman, that he probably had the skills, but the risk was too great. 

And Alastair wasn’t alone.

An arm wrapped around John’s throat, dragging him backwards into the hall. His gun fired, the shot going array and hitting a mirror, shattering it. Henry screeched, the sound drowned out by your own scream of terror. You ran toward Alastair, intent on rescuing your son but Alastair was bigger, faster -

The butt of the gun hit your temple, sending you to the floor, gasping in a heap. Your face burned where you struggled to drag yourself up but Alastair’s foot on your neck prevented you from doing so. “I’m not going to kill you, sweet thing,” he purred. “Need you alive.”

You whined in pain, feeling his foot press harder. Henry screamed, earning a distasteful look from Alastair.

“Kill him,” he ordered and you cried out, grabbing at the floor. Your instant thought was that he meant Henry, but then your eyes were drawn to the hallway where John Winchester was bleeding into the blue carpet, his throat slit from ear to ear.

His eyes were already starting to dull, becoming lifeless as they stared at you.

Alastair chuckled. “We’ll be seeing you very soon,” he muttered, releasing his hold on you before delivering a swift kick to your head. 

Everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10

Neither of them had spoken since they’d left the cremation. There had been a few people there, all offering empty condolences to two brothers who’d lost their mother years before to alcohol and sleeping pills. Mary Winchester was at peace now, despite the circumstances.

Benny guided the car through the New York streets, keeping the radio on low. Dean stared out of the window, eyes red-rimmed because he still felt the raw grief in his chest. Sam, on the other hand, was scrolling through his phone, frowning at some of the purchases his card was showing.

“Dean…”

The elder Winchester’s head lifted, gaze locking on his brothers. “What?”

“There’s a charge here for $200 bucks to a car hire service in Philadelphia,” he muttered, “from this morning.”

Dean’s attention was hooked and he sat upright, glancing around his brother. “Did Y/N say anything about coming back early?”

“No, boss,” Benny replied, frowning. “She mentioned yesterday that her mom was driving her nuts. Asked me to pick her up this afternoon once everything was done.”

Sam gave his brother a concerned look. “Maybe she got annoyed and decided to come home,” Dean surmised, dismissing Sam’s worry. “She’s probably at the penthouse watching Lifetime movies.”

Turning onto their street, Benny suddenly slammed the breaks on, not expecting the severe traffic. Up ahead, blue and red lights bounced off of the buildings, casting an eerie glow on the wet concrete. “Uh, boss?”

“What the hell -” Dean’s words were cut off by Sam’s prompt exit and he quickly followed, catching up easily. Sam went to the first officer he saw, grabbing their arm and turning them.

“What happened?” he demanded, the young officer in his grip wilting quickly.

“There was a body,” the kid stuttered, pointing at their building. “In the lobby. And they found one up in the penthouse.”

Dread as he’d only felt once before chilled Sam to the bone. He tossed the officer to the side, striding toward the entrance, even as other law enforcement tried to turn him back. Spotting one of the security guards, Sam headed for him, catching his attention.

Dean couldn’t help but notice the blood staining his front and his hands. 

“Mr. Winchester,” the guard whispered, remorse flooding his features. “I’m so sorry, sir. We… we didn’t get an alarm, nothing… Mrs. Lambert… she’s… they stabbed her. Days ago.” Sam took the man’s shoulder under his palm.

“Karl,” he said slowly, “where’s Y/N?”

The guard blinked. “She’s upstairs. With your father.”

The mention of John had both brothers on edge. They abandoned the guard, pushing through the police perimeter to access the stairs, ignoring all calls for them to stop. There was no time for pausing to catch their breath, both of them intent on getting to their home as quickly as they could.

When they reached the top, they came face to face with the first detective on the scene; Jo Harvelle. She eyed them warily, blocking their path. “Guys, I can’t let you go any further -”

Sam stopped, ready to pick the woman up and move her but Dean halted him, grabbing his shoulder. “Sam,” he warned, “there’s a lot of cops here.” The younger man relaxed a small amount and Dean focused on Jo, trying not to panic. “Can you tell us what happened?”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “Someone had murdered Mrs. Lambert, and her pet poodle Chuckie, at least a week ago. We think… they were lying in wait.”

“Was it John?” Sam asked, his voice thick.

Jo shook her head. “John only escaped custody yesterday. Y/N said he was trying to warn her about something but she’s pretty shaken up.” Both men exhaled in relief that she was alive but Jo’s expression didn’t let them hold hope for too long. “John’s dead,” she admitted quietly. “And whoever did it -”

Her words choked off and Sam’s blood ran cold. “What?” he pushed and Jo stepped back.

“Whoever murdered your father, and Mrs. Lambert, and Miguel… they took Henry.”

You couldn’t process what had happened.

Sitting on the floor at the foot of Henry’s empty crib, you didn’t respond to any of the officer’s questions. When Jo and Claire arrived, they had little success, managing to get a broken confirmation that John was trying to warn you, not hurt you.

They asked if you recognized the man who took Henry.

You said you didn’t, staring blankly at the pile of clean romper suits that you hadn’t put away before you’d gone to your mom’s.

Someone had taken your son.

Tears rolled down your cheeks silently and you remained quiet, refusing all assistance. A paramedic came over to you, asking if you were hurt. You wanted to tell her that you were; that someone had reached into your chest and pulled out your beating heart and now you had to live without it.

“Y/N!”

Sam’s almost-roar of your name had you looking toward the door where John’s body was still lying, a thick sheet of plastic covering him from head to toe. Fresh tears erupted and you covered your face, not seeing Sam walk in, trying not to look at his father’s concealed corpse.

“Y/N,” he murmured, dropping to his knees beside you, attempting to coax your arms from your head. “Baby, I’m here.”

“They took him,” you cried, clutching at his black sweater, sobbing into it. “They took him, Sam. He’s… he’s just a baby… why would -” Words didn’t seem to want to form anymore and you collapsed in his hold, sobbing until your chest hurt.

“Sir?” the paramedic who’d previously tried to check you over stood behind Dean. “I don’t want to disturb you but -” She swallowed, wringing her hands. “Your wife really needs to go to the hospital. She could have a concussion or other injuries we haven’t noticed.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, lifting your head to glare at the medic.

“No, you’re not,” Dean chided. “C’mon. You’re gonna get checked out.”

“I don’t want to,” you replied stubbornly. “Someone took my son!”

“We know,” Sam soothed, taking hold of your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. “And we’re gonna get him back. I promise you, pretty girl. I’ll bring our son home.”

You stared at him, bottom lip wobbling for a moment, the tears drying sticky on your skin. When you nodded, Dean sagged in relief, looking at the paramedic. “Which hospital are you taking her to?”

“City General. It’s the nearest emergency room,” the woman replied, offering Sam a blanket to drape around your shoulders. You complied with his gentle commands, unable to fight anymore. All you could do was think.

And think.

And think.

At least, it was something you were good at.

“We’ll get her transferred if she needs to stay for observation,” the paramedic was saying. “Would you be able to help her down to the rig?”

By the time the doors of the ambulance closed on Sam’s hopeful and encouraging smile, you knew that you wouldn’t be staying overnight.

Sam’s expression was tense as he watched the ambulance disappear through the cordoned off traffic. Dean touched his arm, pulling his attention to the body of their father being wheeled out to a private ambulance.

“Sam? Dean?”

Jo appeared, Claire at her side, both of them people the brothers didn’t want to deal with. “What?” Sam grunted, his exhausted tone drawing pensive faces from the two detectives. “We don’t know what happened any more than you do.”

“That might be the case,” Claire insisted, folding her arms across her chest. “But you still might have information about who could have done this. Who would have the motive to murder your father and kidnap your son?”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “If you’ve got any idea who our father is -” He paused, swallowing before he amended his statement. “Who our father was, then you’d know that list is next to infinity. There ain’t many people he didn’t piss off.”

“We checked the cameras. They were disabled shortly after Miguel was killed,” Jo informed them. “Looks, guys, we need to know. You’re only gonna make things worse by handling this yourselves.” She gave Sam a pointed look, clearly picking up that he would take things into his own hands. “Think of Y/N. Her baby got taken. Her father-in-law murdered in front of her. I know Y/N - she’s gonna need you to support her.”

Plucking a card from her pocket, Claire handed it over. “If you think of anything that can help us locate Henry, please pass it on. The last thing we want is more casualties.”

Neither man replied but Sam took the card, turning it in his thick fingers. Jo shared a lingering look with her partner before they excused themselves, moving back into the building.

“They don’t want us jeopardizing their case,” Dean pointed out, lifting his chin slightly. “They want a prosecution out of this. All neat and tidy.”

“You know what tends to be neat and tidy?” Sam murmured, tucking the detective’s card into his inside pocket. “Corpses.” Dean’s answering smirk was a dark feature on his face and he pulled the keys to the Impala from his jacket. “We’ve got work to do. This is probably blackmail so we need to go back through every person Dad’s pissed off, someone who lost something significant.”

“You think this is blackmail?”

Sam nodded, turning his back on the building he couldn’t stomach calling home. The darkening sky was beginning to look thunderous, much like his mood. “Whoever it is… they’ve already declared themselves dead.”

So far, you’d met three doctors, all of who had a definite Doogie Howser attitude and appearance. None of them would listen to your pleas to leave, despite the concussion, and by the time you had a second alone to try and come up with a plan, Jo and Claire had arrived, preventing the enactment of any escape.

“You’re going to be released in the morning,” Jo offered, sitting at the side of your bed, trying to be comforting and only succeeding in pissing you off. “We’re gonna find him, Y/N. It’s all going to be okay.”

Internally, you rolled your eyes. You hated the faux confidence that you’d once displayed, pretending you could believe that everything was going to be alright.

But, her compassion could be used to your advantage.

“I need to go now,” you replied, sniffing and clutching the sheets in your hands. They’d put you in one of those hideous hospital gowns, which seemed pointless for a concussion. “I need to find Henry.”

“We’re gonna find him,” Jo promised again and part of you wanted to scold her for offering salvation when in most cases… well, you knew the statistics. You also knew that they didn’t have a single clue where to start on the Winchester little black book of enemies.

You blinked rapidly, wiping at your eyes, forcing the tears to come. “What if he’s -”

“No, don’t think like that,” Claire slipped in, patting your hand. “Keep positive.”

“I don’t believe you,” you whispered, looking away. “I’ve seen… I’ve seen the things people like this do.” Fresh tears, your own failure and realization of what was happening enabling them - you emphasized a sob, shaking your head. “I was stupid to think I could survive this.”

Jo took your hand, giving you a sympathetic smile, one that made you want to punch her right in the face. “Y/N, you need to relax - if there’s anything you can tell us that might help.”

“Get out,” you seethed, finally done with their questioning. When neither detective made a move, you ground your teeth together. “Please, just leave!” Throwing yourself backward, you covered your face with the pillow and started to cry as loudly as you could.

The door clicked shut a few seconds later.

“She’s distressed,” Jo said, her voice muffled by the door. You stayed where you were, aware of the window that would alert them to any movement. “We should give her some time, go get coffee and see where we’re at with forensics.”

Claire sighed, moving to look through the window at your hunched form on the bed. “You think she knows anything?”

“No,” Jo replied. “She’s just another victim of the Winchester Dynasty.”

You seethed underneath the covers, listening to them move away. Moments ticked by before you were sure they were gone; you rolled onto your side, glancing at the window. The late hour ensured there was only one nurse on duty, so your escape would be easier than anticipated.

Scrambling from the bed, you retrieved your clothing, dressing as quickly as you could. Waiting by the door, you waited for the duty nurse to leave before slipping out. You didn’t know this hospital but it was easy enough to find exit signs to lead you out.

The New York air was crisp, the taste of rain on your tongue - you pulled the hood of your jacket up, wrapping it around you as you put as much distance between yourself and the hospital as you could.

The kidnapper’s face hovered in the front of your mind, reigniting the indignant fury in your belly. Clenching your hands at your side, you turned into an alleyway, cutting through the block toward the penthouse. Determination fueled your footsteps, each second bringing a new round of murderous intent.

Alastair Coven. An alias, not his real name. No one knew what that was. He was a thug, notoriously the right-hand man of a gangster who’d once held a significant foothold in the city. You had little to no doubt that he was behind it, the connection to the Winchesters too great to ignore.

The man who had kidnapped your son would pay.

You’d make him pay with blood.


	11. Chapter 11

It took too long to get back to the penthouse but you were glad to find little to no police presence when you arrived. The one officer standing in the lobby was half-asleep, more interested in his fingernails than preventing any access and you easily slipped by, heading for the service elevator.

The penthouse was empty when you entered, the police forensic markers still scattered over the floor. By this hour, they’d packed up; you knew they’d be back tomorrow for a more thorough run-through. The freshest evidence would have been cleared out immediately, although you doubted Alastair would have left much behind.

You went straight to yours and Sam’s shared room, bypassing the nursery. If you walked in there, if you saw the empty crib and the disarray caused by the kidnappers, and the police?

You’d probably break down.

Remaining cold and focused was the best option. You had to get Henry back and deal with whoever was responsible.

Once you’d changed into darker clothing, stealing one of Sam’s thick hoodies, you located the gun you kept in the kitchen. Neither of the boys ever went through the cupboards, preferring takeout to cooking, no matter how much you tried to persuade them otherwise. It gave you a handy hiding spot among all of the baking stuff you supposed had once belonged to Mary.

You didn’t have many bullets; only five occupied the chamber. You didn’t anticipate needing more than that.

Luckily, your phone was still where John had left it before everything had gone to shit, so you snagged it and headed for the door. As you reached for the handle, the key turned in the lock - you darted backward, slipping into the hallway cupboard.

Benny walked by only a moment later, scrubbing a hand over his tired face. His phone rang in his pocket and you remained in the closet, watching through the crack of the door.

“Yeah?”

It was obviously Sam or Dean on the other end of the line. You inched the door open when his back turned, ignoring the conversation.

“I’ll head over to sit with her. My bike’s in the parking garage.”

Smiling, you pulled yourself toward the front door, which he’d very helpfully left open. His back was still turned, his focus on the call rather than anything going on around him. You tried not to feel guilty as you made your way down to the garage underneath the tower, knowing exactly where Benny would have parked.

If you’d only held on a few seconds, you’d have heard Benny talking about Sam’s impending arrival back at the penthouse. The rumbling of the Impala was your only warning; you grabbed Benny’s helmet from the back of the bike and slipped it on, securing the gun in your waistband with the safety on.

Lights flashed over the walls and the tinted visor of the crash helmet afforded you a little protection from the glare. The familiar car turned the corner just as you kicked the bike from the stand, twisting the ignition. It surged forward, the power a higher level than you were used to and you had to adapt, quickly.

They didn’t have a chance to stop you.

Sam frowned at the sight of Benny’s motorcycle speeding past them, the rider clearly not Benny-sized or Benny-shaped. Dean stopped the engine, the expression on his face matching his brother’s. “That wasn’t -”

Dean’s obnoxious ringtone blared from his pocket and he picked up the unknown call, answering curtly. He didn’t say anything beyond the greeting, hanging up the phone to give his younger sibling a serious look.

“Y/N disappeared from the hospital.”

At the end of the garage, the elevator dinged and Benny emerged, looking around in a panic. When he saw his bike was gone and the Impala was there, he froze, watching Sam emerge from the car, closely followed by Dean.

“Where’s my bike?” Benny asked. “Y/N’s phone is gone, I think she was upstairs -”

“She just rode outta here,” Dean informed him through ground teeth. “Girl’s goddamn slippery as hell.”

Sam turned his head toward the exit ramp. “There’s no way we’d catch her now. Where the hell is she going?”

Scratching his head, Benny sighed. “I’m sorry, I should have gotten here sooner.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dean reassured him. “You got any ideas?”

“Network’s tapped. No one is talking. Not to me anyway,” Benny lamented. “Only makes me think of one person who could keep that many people quiet.”

Sam’s eyes blazed as Benny’s words only supported the conclusion they’d come to on the drive back. “We spoke to a few contacts. Same silence.” He glanced at Dean, the older man’s face slightly paler than it had been. “This stinks of Azazel.”

Curling his fists at his side, Dean clenched his jaw. “He’s messing with the wrong family.”

“It’s not the first time,” Sam pointed out.

Dean lifted his chin, giving his brother a look that screamed murder. “It’s gonna be the fucking last.”

Somewhere in your belongings was a notebook, filled with scribbles about the cases you’d worked on. Every case you’d solved or failed to solve was etched into the pages, as well as into your mind. You wouldn’t forget a single word of the reports you’d read, the horrors you’d investigated.

The file on the Winchester dynasty was thicker than your arm, filled with information as far back as 1983 - the year that the Winchesters moved to New York. They’d lived in Kansas originally, and as far as anyone knew, they’d been a normal family. Sam was around six months old then, Dean approaching five when everything had gone to hell.

Dean had filled in all the blanks one stormy night when you’d been unable to sleep, heavily pregnant and miserable in the summer humidity.

John Winchester had been a mechanic by trade but when he’d returned from a lengthy stint in the army on active duty, things had changed. Desperate for money to start a life with Mary, he’d taken a job to rough up a guy who owed money to a gang.

Every time, he told himself it would be the last one. He wasn’t a thug for hire. But when he tried to walk away, they offered him more money for more extreme work. John tried to rationalize it, tried to justify that he was hurting bad people, that the money was giving his growing family a better chance.

By then, Mary was pregnant with Sam and John wanted out.

His employer, if he could call him that, asked him to do one last job. Easy, he said, in and out, no trouble. This target needed to be neutralized.

Azazel Villier ran an organized crime syndicate out of Chicago. Gambling, prostitution, murder, human trafficking - there wasn’t a pie the man didn’t have his fingers in. And John’s employer wanted him dead. Azazel’s son, Max, the apple of his father’s eye, was easily led; he would fold to any opposition.

The problem was, he also had a habit of not being in the right place.

John couldn’t have seen the kid moving into his line of sight. His finger was already tight on the trigger when he realized his error, the bullet flying the three-hundred meters to pierce the young man’s skull, splattering his father, the actual target, with bone and brain matter.

His family wasn’t safe after that.

John sold everything he owned, ready to run; Mary didn’t understand and refused to leave the home she’d built for her sons. Sam was only six months old, Dean was starting kindergarten the next month but John knew they couldn’t stay.

You remembered seeing the crime scene photos after the fire. Mary had suffered severe burns and Sam had nearly died.

There was never any official evidence to tie Azazel to the crime but John knew. His former employer was radio-silent and the fire gave Mary the final reason she needed. For a few months, she wanted John gone, but she knew she couldn’t survive on her own.

The house in Westchester was their new home. You’d read the reports from the earlier years - Azazel was rumored to be in Spain, fleeing from the FBI for an unrelated matter - and John believed only one thing could protect his family. He invested in properties, businesses, taking over a space in New York gang-run real estate that hadn’t been filled before.

As he amassed power, Mary developed an addiction to sleeping pills and alcohol. By the time Sam was nine, the boys were frequently in the city with their father, being raised more by barmaids and prostitutes than their actual parents.

John’s need for revenge dug a wedge between him and his family that became a trench. If Azazel came back, he’d be ready for war.

The boys grew up learning everything their father taught them about his business and everything else they learned in the dark of his bars and clubs. Mary was never there and when she was, she was high or drunk, leaving both her sons to their own devices.

Sam had tried to leave when he turned twenty-one. Brady Watkins, an associate of a rival, had put a stop to that when he’d murdered Jessica Moore, the socialite girlfriend Sam had found in college. Though he’d never admitted it to you outright, you knew he’d had killed Brady for what he’d done.

He was capable of far more than those files had ever suspected.

But Azazel Villier?

He was capable of worse.

The quiet backstreets of the city were populated by the homeless, the addicted and the unwanted. It was also home to some of the seedier bars; you pulled Benny’s motorcycle to a halt outside “_The Purple Clam_” and dragged the helmet off.

Your gun was in your hand before you entered the building.

Thirty minutes later, you emerged, wiping blood on your pants with shaking hands. It was far too easy to keep upright, to keep going after what you’d just done.

Now you knew where Alastair was. Finding Alastair would lead you to Henry, and in turn, Azazel. 

Climbing back onto the motorcycle, you tucked the gun into your pants once more and started the engine. In your pocket, your phone rang - you ignored it, roaring off into the traffic.

Three bullets would be plenty.


	12. Chapter 12

“She’s not answering,” Sam growled.

“Were you really expecting her to?” Dean snapped back, slamming his hand on the horn as the car in front moved only an inch. “It’s fucking three am, where are all these assholes going!” The rhetorical question was followed by more furious honking and Sam let his head thud against the window.

Moments passed in silence, thick with tension. The traffic moved slowly, enough that Sam thought he’d probably make better time walking.

Problem was, he was in such a foul mood, he might stop to kill anyone that looked at him wrong.

An idea sprung into his head and he reached into his pocket, pulling free Detective Novak’s phone number. Dean noticed his action immediately, frowning over at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Setting the sniffer dogs on her,” Sam grunted. “They can get through traffic quicker than us.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“The police won’t hurt her,” the younger brother replied, dialing the number.

Dean gave him a skeptical look. “No, but Y/N might hurt you.”

Ignoring him, Sam finishing tapping in the digits, lifting the phone to his ear. “Hello? Detective Novak?” He nodded, forcing a smile onto his face, switching on what Dean referred to as ‘customer service Sam’. “Yeah, we might have a problem. Did the hospital - they did, huh?” 

One eyebrow raised, Dean listened, unable to hear much from the other end of the line. Sam hummed as the detective continued to speak, nodding every few seconds.

“You did? I thought she would have turned it off.” Sam paused again. “Okay, so what was the last location?” The detective answered and Dean stared at his brother impatiently as he ended the call. “The Purple Clam.”

The phone started to ring again; Sam ignored it.

“You not gonna answer that?” Dean suggested, guiding the car around the traffic to head to the well-known dive bar on the outskirts of the city. Sam tapped at his phone, rejecting the call.

“She already gave me everything we needed,” he explained, smugly. “They got alerted to Y/N’s disappearance after we did. Got a trace on her cell before she remembered to turn it off. Detective Rookie told me her last known location was outside that shitstain of a dive bar owned by Alastair Coven.”

“Alastair,” Dean growled. “I hate that asshole.”

“It confirms that Azazel is involved,” Sam lamented, rejecting the third call from Novak, sneering at the screen when she texted him. Was she panicking now, knowing she’d divulged information to him that she probably wasn’t supposed to? “Which isn’t good news.” He didn’t want to think about the fact that the man who’d almost killed him as a child now had his son.

Dean pushed the car a little harder, moving through emptier streets with ease. “It won’t be good news for him,” he replied, lifting his chin.

Benny was already by the front door of the club when they arrived, his expression grim and foreboding. Sam was out of the car first, slamming the door hard enough to earn a filthy look from his brother which he ignored.

“She’s not here,” Benny informed him and Sam felt like stamping his feet in frustration. “I figure she’s been gone ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”

“What makes you say that?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“The blood is still warm.”

His response made both Winchesters share a glance of trepidation. “How many?” Sam murmured, sighing heavily.

“Two,” Benny returned, gesturing to the front door of the club. “And we’ve got about three minutes until the cops get here.” He led them inside, toward the bar area. A barmaid sat huddled on a stool, mascara spread down her cheeks. The club was empty, normal for this time of the morning when the sun wasn’t even up.

“What did you see?” Sam demanded, a little too intimidating for the frightened woman’s taste. She gave Benny a panicked look and he nodded encouragingly.

“It’s okay, tell ‘em what you told me.”

Her shoulders shook with her sobs. “Me and Clive were locking up,” she sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve, “and this woman came in. She… she told me she wanted to speak to Alastair but he’s never here. When I told her that… she… she -”

“Did she hurt you?” Dean asked quietly.

The woman shook her head. “No. She told me to drop down behind the bar.” The answer puzzled both men and Benny took over, realizing the barmaid was a little too traumatized as she started to shudder, sobbing into her hands.

“Y/N came in just before closing. There was only one customer left. She put a bullet in his head when he came for her and Clive spilled everything after that. She killed him anyway.” Neither Winchester knew how to respond when Benny stood to the side, showing them the body half poking out from the bar.

Dean walked over, looking down at the dead man’s face. “You know him?”

Benny shook his head. “Clive I knew. He’s one of Azazel’s lower-level scumbags. This one…” He looked down at the corpse. “… never seen him. Either way, Y/N got what she wanted. A location.”

“She’s gonna tell the cops,” Sam warned, gesturing to the barmaid.

“All the more reason to get there first,” Dean seethed, grabbing his brother’s arm. “The cops can deal with her.”

“She’ll give them Y/N’s name,” Sam argued, snatching away from the older man’s hold. “We can’t risk that.”

The barmaid looked up in a panic, shaking her head. “No, I’ll… I’ll just tell them it was some gangbanger. That -”

“You really think Novak is gonna buy that?” Sam growled, pulling his gun from the waistband of his pants. Shrieking, the barmaid fell backward off the stool, trying to get away even as Dean grabbed for his brother again. “Dean, they know she was here!”

“No, they know her phone was here,” Dean retorted, pushing his brother back. “You think Y/N wants another dead innocent on her hands?” Sam snorted, still intent on dealing with the problem.

Benny stepped forward, pointing at the door. “We got less than a minute before the cops are bustin’ down that door, brother, so if you need to do anything -”

“Please,” the barmaid sobbed, “I don’t wanna die. I won’t say anything.”

“All they have is a GPS signal,” Dean rationalized. “She’s the only witness. Which means she’s the only one who can tell them what happened.” Turning to the terrified woman, he helped her up. “And it was a gangbanger, right?” She nodded, wide eyes fixed on Sam, who slowly stepped back and concealed his weapon.

“Fine,” he grunted, turning away. “Let’s go.”

When Sam had suggested using the home gym, you’d initially been wary, thinking he’d gotten bored of you now things weren’t so firm after having Henry. But now, crossing thick brush to reach the stately property belonging to Azazel?

You were glad for the workouts.

Riding the bike had left your legs aching, your stomach tender from keeping your balance. You’d only ridden one motorbike before and that had been years ago. Still, you pushed yourself, determined to find Henry.

The property was expansive, the front gate half a mile from the main road. You didn’t think rocking up to knock the door was gonna work, especially not from the amount of private security around it. Luckily, you found the perimeter was dark and unguarded, allowing you to scale the wall.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you ignored it. Both Jo and Sam had been calling constantly; somehow even after hours of silence, they still thought you might pick up.

Landing on the other side of the wall, you grimaced as the arch of your left foot immediately cramped. You leaned against the stone perimeter, catching your breath after the long walk, but not for long. The house was ahead, only a few minutes across the lawn.

Everything was dark, lending you the advantage as you crept down over the shrubbery, hopeful you could get into the house undetected. Victory quickened your step and when everything flooded with bright light, it took a second for you to straighten, pulling your gun from the holster.

The odds didn’t look great.

Four armed security guards approached from either side of the perfectly square lawn; you lowered your weapon, surrendering as they descended on you.

At least, you’d gotten into the house.

The men were especially rough with you as they led you inside, through the large entertaining rooms to the library. Your eyes scanned your surroundings as you moved, stumbling when one of the guards shoved you hard into the large open-plan room. 

Azazel was sat at the table.

He was holding Henry.

You lurched forward, stopping in your attack by the guards, their strength easily restraining you. “You asshole! Give me back my son!”

“Now, now, Mrs. Winchester,” a chilling voice scolded. Alastair emerged from an adjoining room, smiling his creepy too-wide smile as he crossed to the table where Azazel was cradling your baby boy. “There’s no need for profanity.”

“I’ll give you fucking profanity,” you retorted, baring your teeth. “Give me back my son, you fucking sickos.”

Cracking his neck, Azazel got to his feet, handing Henry to Alastair, prompting a fresh round of struggles as the taller man walked across the room, looking down at the sleeping boy. Azazel grinned, moving to stand in front of you.

You tilted your chin up, looking him in the eyes. “I know who you are,” you growled, “and I’m not scared of you.”

His grin didn’t waiver - he reached his hand up, cupping your cheek. You recoiled, snapping your teeth in a manner that only made him laugh. “Vicious little creature, aren’t you? Here I thought the Winchesters had you tamed but they just made you wilder, didn’t they?”

Pulling your head back, you hocked up a ball of spit, launching it into his face. “Fuck you.” 

Azazel chuckled, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping your spittle from his cheek. “Feisty,” he shuddered. “I’m going to give you a choice, Mrs. Winchester. And it’s a one time offer.”

You didn’t answer, glaring at him, mindful of Alastair’s continued possession of your son.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what it is?” Azazel teased. When you remained quiet, eyes flickering between him and his associate, his lips stretched back in a smile just as chilling as Alastair’s. “Well, then, I’ll just tell you. I’ll give you your son back. You’re free to go.”

Snorting, you eyed him derisively. “What’s the catch?”

“You leave the city. Go back to your quiet little hometown.”

“Not gonna happen,” you told him.

Azazel’s smile didn’t stop, his cold eyes boring into you. “You leave, or both you and your son will die.”

Your eyes widened. “Why?”

“Is your son’s life not enough reason to do as I ask?” he replied, not answering the question. “They really did make you an animal, didn’t they?”

“Why am I so important that you’d do this?” you demanded. “What the hell difference does it make whether I’m in New York or not?”

Chuckling, Azazel returned to his desk, sitting down in the chair. Alastair drifted back closer, Henry shifting in his arms as he started to wake up. “Your menfolk are the cause of this.”

“John Winchester is the cause of this,” you replied through gritted teeth. “And he’s dead.”

“Yes but in that regard, the debt passes to his sons,” Azazel informed you coldly. “He murdered my son, my only heir. And now, I’m going to end the Winchesters once and for all.”

“Then I can’t trust you’ll let me go.”

“Henry, isn’t it? That’s his name?” Alastair piped up, close enough now that you could see every inch of your son’s face. There wasn’t a scratch on him, much to your relief. But he would be hungry - he hadn’t eaten in hours.

“Yes.”

Azazel leaned back, watching the way you started to strain against the hold of the guards, useless as it might be. “You really will do anything to protect him, won’t you?”

You stared him down coldly. “Yes.”

“Tell me, Y/N,” Azazel said, a slow and measured tone letting you know that you probably weren’t going to like whatever he was going to say. “If it meant your son would live, would you let your husband and your lover die?”


	13. Chapter 13

The streets out of the city were quiet but Claire still put her foot on the gas. Jo sat in the passenger seat of their cruiser, texting away frantically.

“Is she replying?” Claire asked, glancing over at her.

Jo shook her head, a grim look on her face. “No. And I still think this is a bad idea.”

“You said it yourself; Y/N will die if we wait for backup,” Claire retorted, overtaking another vehicle on the dark road. “We just gotta beat the Winchesters.”

“Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut instead of letting Sam charm you,” Jo scolded. “You’re lucky I don’t -”

“Don’t what? You’re the one coming with me.” Claire’s interjection shut the smaller blonde up. “Look, they weren’t at the bar, were they?”

“Not when we got there,” Jo conceded, lifting one leg to prop her foot on the dashboard. “Doesn’t mean they weren’t there at all. Why else would the barmaid lie?” Shrugging, Claire tapped at the satellite navigation, scowling at it. “I don’t know, this just feels -”

Claire glared at her. “It’s not a trap. How the hell could anyone know we’re following her?”

“She’ll know,” Jo lamented. “She was a good cop, Claire.”

“Obviously not.”

The reply made Jo fall silent and she tapped out another message, hopeful she’d get an answer although her expectations were low. Outside the car, the dawn started to turn the sky red, heavy clouds high in the sky threatening rain.

“Let’s just get there in time, yeah?” Claire said, knowing she’d overstepped. 

Jo nodded, a sinking feeling in her gut telling her they were already too late.

Henry was waking. His low cries filled the library and Alastair shushed him unsuccessfully as Azazel glared at him. You swallowed, reaching out your hands as far as you could with the men holding you back.

“Please,” you whispered, tears freely streaming down your cheeks. “Please give me my son. He’s hungry.”

“Is that an answer?” Azazel asked.

“Please,” you tried again, hoping to appeal to the man’s humanity - if he had any.

“Hmmm.” Azazel got to his feet, pulling a drawer out to retrieve a gold 9mm pistol, the barrel thick and exceptionally phallic. “That isn’t good enough.” He aimed the gun at you, finger curling around the trigger. “But I’ll give you a consolation prize. Your son will live. I wasn’t fortunate enough to meet another woman after Max was murdered.”

“What?” Your voice was thick with rage, tears drying up instantly.

Azazel cocked the pistol. “You heard me.”

The room went dark for a split second, just as Henry’s ear-piercing wail filled the air. Everything turned red with emergency lighting and Azazel growled when he heard gunshots from outside.

“Winchesters.”

“Sir?” the guards were disorientated, their hold on you relaxing. Seizing the opportunity, you surged forward, freeing yourself. All four men fumbled to stop you as you ran for Alastair, everything focused on getting to your son.

The doors of the library burst open, an armed guard coming through and landing on the floor, a bullet through his cheek. The four guards turned, opening fire and you tussled with Alastair as Henry screeched.

Reaching up, you clawed at Alastair’s face, making him cry out in pain when your nails raked across his eyes. He released your son and you fell backward, agony lacing through your shoulder. You landed on the floor heavily, cradling Henry from harm before dragging yourself to the desk, hiding behind it as the shoot out continued.

Curling around your son, his cries muffled by your protection, you closed your eyes, wondering why the hell your shoulder was hurting so bad.

There was blood on Henry’s romper suit.

You passed out.

Sam tapped his hand nervously against his thigh, watching the front gate of Azazel’s house. To his right, Dean focused his gaze in the same direction; Benny approached from the left, a grim expression covering his features.

“We got six at the rear. Armed,” he informed them.

“Two on the gate. Where are the rest?” Dean glanced at Sam who sighed heavily.

“It’s either a trap for us…” He scrubbed a hand over his face, unwilling to admit what he already knew. The trap had been sprung and Azazel’s prey was inside the building. Alive or dead, Sam couldn’t know. But he was hopeful.

Clapping his hand on Sam’s shoulder, Dean offered his brother a reassuring smile. “We already know she’s more lethal than we give her credit for.”

“Henry’s in there,” Sam muttered.

Benny pointed at a portion of the perimeter. “If we’re going in, we need to go in that way.”

“Need some help?”

The feminine voice made all three men turn, their eyes falling on the silhouettes of the two blonde detectives. Instantly, Sam scanned the area for more cops, surprised when he found only them. “You came without backup?”

Claire shrugged. “Didn’t seem like you were waiting for any either.”

“We’re here now,” Jo snapped. “And Y/N is in there.”

Dean lifted his chin, amused by her boldness. “You think you’re going to help us?”

“It’s the only way you get Y/N back without getting arrested in the process,” Claire replied smugly but Sam only scoffed.

“If you think I’m gonna be sparing lives -”

“You won’t be,” Jo stared him down, pulling her jacket to the side to reveal her pistol. Claire’s head turned swiftly, shock on her features but the other blonde didn’t look back. “We get in, we get out. We try not to kill anyone but I don’t exactly expect these guys to be holding their punches.”

“What about the rest of your colleagues?” Benny piped up, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“You let us worry about the cops,” Claire informed him. “You get Y/N and Henry out and you get gone.”

Dean looked back at the house. “We need to move now.”

Splitting up seemed like the best course of action. Benny accompanied Claire and Jo to the rear of the property, disabling the guards one by one. Dean and Sam took the front, easily incapacitating the two men at the gate, finding no resistance until they got through the front door.

From there on out, it was all guns blazing.

“Find her,” Sam barked, tackling one guard to the floor, punching him repeatedly in the face as Dean took off running. From the other end of the house, gunshots echoed and he slid to a halt when he saw two other men coming for him from the opposing hall.

The younger Winchester appeared behind him and Dean ducked as he raised his gun, firing two shots in quick succession. The first went astray, clipping the wall just past one guard’s head - he stumbled, landing heavily on the floor but recovering quickly.

Sam’s second shot instantly struck the beefed-up guy following the first guard, hitting him in the throat. Blood sprayed from the wound; the man clutched his throat, eyes rolling back as he dropped to his knees and then finally, fell face-first onto the polished floor.

Dean had no option but to engage the first guard in fisticuffs.

Further gunshots pressed the urgency to move - Sam joined his brother, both of them easily subduing the guard and taking off. They rounded a corner, spotting another armed guard. This one froze up as soon as he saw them, a little alarmed by the intruders.

He didn’t have a chance to run as a bullet pierced his left cheek, fired by Benny who had appeared in the adjoining hallway. “She’s in there,” he called and Sam jumped to action, ramming his shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge and he growled in frustration. 

Dean looked down at the corpse, pushing the dead man with his foot. “Battering ram?”

Sam grinned. “Coco Nights?”

“This one’s dead, not drunk,” Dean pointed out. He grabbed the dead guard by the arm, pulling him up. Blood trickled from his ruined face; Dean grimaced, looking down at his suit. “Good thing this wasn’t a rental,” he muttered, groaning as Sam helped him with the weight of the cadaver. 

“Count of three,” Sam instructed and Dean nodded, holding the corpse up, both of them using it to partially shield themselves.

They ran for the door, crashing into it with the combined weight of three men. Splintered wood flew everywhere, their entrance into the library followed by a hail of bullets from the guards inside. Both men retreated before they could get shot, abandoning their makeshift shield and taking cover behind either side of the door.

“Benny!” Dean yelled, just as Claire and Jo appeared.

A baby screamed, then went silent, making Sam’s blood run cold. Both of the detectives were firing, incapacitating shots and in only a few moments, the room was quiet, filled with only moans of pain from those still conscious.

Sam almost fell as he hurried to get to his feet, running into the room. He checked the bodies, finding only four guards, and Alastair, who was slumped against the rear wall by an open panel. Rage propelled him forward, his bloody fingers curling in Alastair’s collar to drag him to his knees.

The man cried in pain, blood staining his shirt across his stomach where he’d been shot. “Where is my son?” Sam growled, pressing the muzzle of his gun to the underside of Alastair’s chin. Alastair grinned, his teeth more red than white. “Where is Y/N?”

A tiny cry caught the attention of everyone in the room; Alastair started to chuckle, even as Dean stepped behind the desk, bending to check your pulse. The huge piece of oak furniture had concealed you from view after you’d passed out, Henry hidden underneath you.

The boy’s cries grew louder as Dean moved you to get to him, satisfied you were alive.

“She’s breathing. She’s been shot.”

Sam’s heart was thundering in his chest and he looked back down at Alastair. The injured man’s laughter faded. “You think they’re ever going to be safe?”

The trigger moved easily under his finger, the sound of the gunshot preceding the thump of Alastair’s corpse on the carpet by only a second. Jo and Claire stared in shock at the brutal execution; Sam stood straight and holstered his weapon, moving toward the desk. Briefly checking on Henry, safe in his brother’s arms, he bent down and scooped you from the floor, settling you in his hold with your head against his shoulder.

He spared Dean a glance, his brother’s nod confirming he would follow. With a slow, steady gait, Sam headed for the door, ignoring the two detectives on the way out. “We’re done here.”


	14. Chapter 14

Being shot was an experience you weren’t in a hurry to repeat, ever again. Even with the copious amount of drugs that the hospital doctors had administered, you still felt the deep throb of pain underneath the thick gauze covering the bullet wound.

The bullet had lodged in the muscle, causing minimal damage - you were lucky.

Seemed like luck was your theme recently.

Either way, you’d accomplished what you set out to do, for the most part. Henry was safe, and the worst twenty-four hours of your life were over.

“Doc says he’s just hungry and cranky,” Dean murmured, lowering the squirming child into your lap with a grin. Henry screeched, reaching for his bottle with a furious little scowl on his face, practically snatching it from your hand.

“Winchester appetites,” you grumbled, watching your son gulp his formula like it was going out of fashion. “That asshole didn’t even bother to stock provisions for him. God knows how long he was sat in that dirty diaper.”

Sam leaned back in his seat, his eyes fixed on you as you cradled Henry with your good arm. The child’s initial hunger had been sated; his eyelids began to droop as he lazily sucked on the teat, tiny fingers flexing around the plastic bottle.

“He’s still out there,” Dean pointed out softly.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “Then we find him.”

“Then what?” he countered.

Sitting up straight, Sam remained cool as he answered before you could. “I kill him.”

Narrowing your eyes at your husband, you frowned. “Why?”

“Do I really need to give you a reason?” the younger Winchester spat and you glared at him.

“No, I mean,” you corrected yourself, realizing the misunderstanding, “why do you get to kill him?” The question rendered both men silent and for a moment, Henry’s noisy slurping and the beeping of the machines was all you could hear. “You got to kill Alastair,” you said quietly. “Azazel is mine. He threatened _my son_.”

Sam’s mouth was a thin line as he looked at you and you swallowed, a little intimidated by his expression. Dean didn’t speak, regarding you with a straight face, but you knew what both of them were thinking.

“I get it,” you whispered, snatching your hand out to catch the mostly empty bottle as Henry started to lose his grip. “He took your normal life away. He took your mom away, in every sense.” You jumped when Sam’s hand slipped onto the bed, gently cradling his son’s head, his fingers sliding through Henry’s still-downy-soft hair. “But without that, I wouldn’t be here. Henry… he wouldn’t be here.”

The brothers shared a glance. “I know why you wanna be the one,” Dean replied, moving a little closer to the bed and sitting down. “You have every right. But this… disregard for human life you’ve suddenly developed -”

“They’re not human,” you growled, the venom in your tone making Henry whimper miserably in your lap, tossing the empty bottle away. He rolled onto his belly, jamming his thumb into his mouth, but before he could get comfortable, Sam pulled him off the bed and over his shoulder, rubbing his back. “Azazel threatened to kill my son. And then… he threatened to take him away, raise him -” The thought of it made your throat close up and you tried to clear it, shaking your head.

If Sam was angry at what Azazel had threatened to do, he didn’t show it, intently rubbing his son’s back as he drifted off to sleep. The air in the room was thick with rage but at that point, you didn’t know who it was coming from.

“If we find him before the police do -” Dean started - you cut him off.

“No. Fuck the police.” Both men looked stunned at the statement but you weren’t stopping. “Azazel has no regard for human life so why the hell should I have any regard for his? He’s a threat and threats need to be dealt with.”

For a second, Sam appeared bewildered; a slow smile spread across his face and he chuckled under his breath. “Pretty girl,” he chided, “you really are a Winchester.”

Unexpected pride swelled in your chest as Dean grinned but the moment wasn’t going to last. The door opened and the doctor walked in, his eyes glued to his clipboard.

“Mrs. Winchester,” he greeted, looking up. “I’m Doctor Wilson. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask your visitors to leave. We need to run some tests to make sure there’s no permanent damage to your shoulder.”

Sam stood up, trying not to dislodge Henry too much as he lowered him back into his stroller, clipping him in. Handing the child off to Dean, Sam turned back to you, leaning over to kiss you softly. “Don’t worry about anything but healing right now,” he ordered, brushing his nose against yours. “Your mom will be staying at a hotel with Henry while we’re… dealing with business. I don’t wanna be worrying that you’re running off to get yourself killed.”

“It almost sounds like you care,” you teased and he smirked.

“Love you,” he murmured, kissing you again, just as the doctor cleared his throat.

“You too,” you replied, keeping your eyes on him as he followed his brother out of the door. The doctor waited until it was closed before smiling at you. “Tests, Gavin? Nothing more original?”

“Sorry,” he muttered, sliding into the seat beside you, casting a wary eye at the closed blinds, “only way I could get in. Rowena said you wanted to talk?”

You shifted, sitting up a little more, wincing at the pain in your shoulder. “I do. I’m calling in a favor she owes me.”

Gavin smiled. “A favor? Who?”

“Not a hit,” you replied, shaking your head. “I just want a location. The police won’t find him but you’re gonna be on limited time if those two are anything to go by.” An angry sigh passed your lips. “Azazel Villier,” you informed him; Gavin’s reaction didn’t disappoint. Genuine shock covered his expression and you smiled wryly.

“Azazel? Y/N… that’s suicide -”

“He’s a wounded beast,” you snapped. “You gonna treat me like I’m some poor little weakling too?” The man shook his head, fear gracing his features. “Good. Then get your ass back to Rowena and tell her to find Azazel.”

“Do you really think she’s capable of it?”

Dean left the question until they’d reached the soda machine, both of them pausing as Sam glanced around to see if anyone was in earshot. Sighing, the younger man shook his head. “Man, I got no idea.”

“She’s kinda scary,” Dean confessed, smirking; Sam chuckled in reply. “I guess that’s the effect we have on people, huh? Bringing out the worst in ‘em.”

“I don’t wanna think of it as the worst,” Sam replied quietly. “She’s brought out the best in us. But she’ll kill to protect Henry. Same as I would. Same as you would.”

His brother didn’t reply, his expression turning pensive. Before either of them could speak again, an old lady cooed loudly, waddling over to the stroller and bending down to peer at the sleeping baby.

“Oh, he’s gorgeous!” she gushed. Dean and Sam stood rooted to the spot, unsure what to do. They hadn’t been subjected to much of the attention that Henry received from the general public and they didn’t know how to deal with grabby old ladies. “How old?”

Dean gave her a panicked look. “Five months,” he rushed out, incorrectly.

“Six months,” Sam corrected, smiling, “yesterday.”

The old lady beamed. “He’s beautiful. Such a lovely little family. Lucky little man to have such handsome fathers.”

Sam’s jaw dropped in horror, mimicking his brothers. “We’re not - I’m the father - he’s not -”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear,” the lady giggled, “I don’t judge. My grandson took me to Pride last year, it was such a fun day!” Neither man knew how to react to that but the old lady was already moving on. “Such a beautiful boy. You take care now!”

Dean stuttered, pointing at her and then at his brother. “Did she just -”

“Can we just go get Y/N’s mom from the station?” Sam pleaded. “We can bleach ourselves later.”

The real doctor, not Rowena’s errand boy, was insistent that you spend the night in the hospital, to make sure there were no further issues. You suspected it was because he didn’t trust how you’d ended up with a bullet in your shoulder and those suspicions were confirmed when Detectives Harvelle and Novak turned up in your room.

“You’re persistent,” you muttered, putting down the magazine you’d been reading, “I’ll give you that.”

“We need to take a statement, Y/N,” Jo said cautiously, standing at the foot of your bed. “Cover all our bases.”

“Do you feel dirty, Jo?” you asked, smirking at her. “Being a crooked cop ain’t so bad, is it?”

“We’re protecting you,” Claire interjected, folding her arms across her chest, ignoring Jo’s warning glare. “As far as we’re concerned, some bad guys got put down. No love lost and all that. We just gotta do the paperwork right.”

You regarded her coolly, chewing the inside of your mouth. “Hmmm, paperwork,” you smiled again, “don’t miss that.”

Jo moved, sitting in the seat to the side of your bed, pulling a file out of her shoulder bag. “Can we just get this over with?”

“Sure,” you shrugged with your one good shoulder, “but you’re wrong about one thing. Not _all _the bad guys got put down.” Leveling your gaze on your former best friend, you lifted your chin, narrowing your eyes. “You found him yet?”

“Azazel?” Jo asked - you nodded, waiting for her to tell you what you already knew. “Er, he, he left the state. We think he’s in Virginia but -”

“Are you going to keep looking for him?” The two blondes shared a look that told you everything you needed to know. “Lemme guess, it’s not your jurisdiction?”

“You know it isn’t,” Claire defended. “But the FBI isn’t interested. They’re more focused on finding out why so many of their most wanted are suddenly dropping dead. We’re trying to cover your ass, here, Y/N. Otherwise, you’ll be facing a lot longer than twenty-four hours without your kid. It’ll be life. Behind bars.”

You stared her down, not bothered in the slightest by her threats. Jo reached out, placing a hand on the bed beside you. “Y/N, I know you. You’re not like this.”

“So you keep telling me,” you replied sharply. “Except I _am _like this, Jo. Someone threatened my son. I’m not gonna just let that go -”

“You have to,” Jo ordered. “And if you don’t…” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever pathetic lie she could come up with but the words that came out of her mouth surprised you. “I’ll tell Sam.” The shock must have been visible on your face as she smiled smugly. “Don’t think I won’t. I told your mom when you _borrowed _her stilettos for the ninth grade dance.”

Realizing that she was serious, you scowled at her, irritated further when she grinned back. “You always were a little snitch,” you growled.

“Can we get this done?” Jo asked earnestly. “You can go back to hating me later but right now, I wanna keep you outta jail, Y/N.”

“Fine,” you muttered. “What story are we going with?”

An hour later, the statement was done, declaring that you’d recognized who had taken Henry as Alastair Coven and had gone to a known address, intent on retrieving your son. If anyone questioned you, you’d arrived, paid a ransom and Henry had been returned to you. Your injury was the result of a stray bullet as you’d escaped a home invasion from a rival gang.

When the two detectives left, you spotted Benny lingering in the hallway. He caught your eye and slipped in once the women had disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

“You never were any good at lurking around me,” you pointed out. “You my babysitter?”

Benny smiled sheepishly. “Bodyguard.”

“Whose body are you guarding?” you asked, smirking up at him. “Because I think I’ve established on several occasions that I can take care of myself.”

He sat down in the seat Claire had been occupying, snatching your trashy magazine from the nightstand. “Well, I gotta earn my keep. So shut up and enjoy my company, cher, I ain’t going anywhere.”


	15. Chapter 15

The anticipation of coming home turned to apprehension the minute Dean pulled the Impala into the underground garage. Picking Henry up from your mom at the Plaza was bittersweet - she asked if you wanted her to stay but you’d sent her on her way.

You didn’t want to give her any more ammunition to argue against your personal choices.

Henry was snoozing when you lifted his car seat out of the back, his thumb jammed into his mouth like usual. “We’ve really gotta get him outta that,” you muttered, tugging the boy’s hand free. Instantly, he frowned, returning it as soon as you moved your hand. 

“He didn’t want the pacifier,” Sam grinned, taking the car seat out of your hands. “And you need to take it easy.”

“I was using my good arm!” you defended but your husband only turned and walked off toward the elevator. Jogging to catch up, you grimaced at the pain in your shoulder, leaning heavily against the wall with your right arm when you followed Sam inside.

Dean was already in the lounge when you entered the apartment, his feet up on the coffee table. He was watching the news, apparently engrossed in it; at least, he was until the door shut, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

“Hey,” he greeted, getting to his feet and rounding the couch to pull you close. “Glad you’re home.” The welcome took you by surprise but you smiled and hugged him back with your good arm, curling into his soft embrace, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

“I’m gonna go and put Henry down,” Sam called, heading for the nursery.

A sense of panic felt like it reached into your chest and gripped your heart in icy fingers. “No!” Sam froze on the spot, the car seat dangling from his fingers. “No, I don’t… I want him to be with me.”

There was an odd expression on Sam’s face but he turned back toward you, frowning. “That’s okay, we can move the crib back into our bedroom.”

“Can… can he just stay in here with us?” you asked, trying not to cry at your own sudden helplessness. “I don’t wanna be apart from him.” In truth, you’d been on edge ever since they’d taken the morphine drip out of your arm. Turned out, it had been keeping you pretty chill about the whole ordeal and now you were sober… 

Well, you didn’t think you were going to sleep, despite the exhaustion flooding your bones.

“Of course, he can,” Dean said softly, taking your hand, his face filled with concern. “C’mon. Come sit down. We can order food, pick a movie -”

“I don’t need special treatment,” you protested weakly, letting the elder Winchester lead you to the couch although you didn’t take your eyes off of Henry. Sam gave you a gentle smile, walking around the end of the couch and leaning down to place Henry’s car seat on the table. He unclipped the harness, lifting the baby from the seat, passing him over to you. With your good arm, you shifted him into your chest, calm washing over you when you felt his warm breath on your throat.

“Even if you do,” Sam mumbled, catching your chin with his hand, “you don’t have to be frightened to ask us.”

Dean leaned in, kissing your shoulder, one hand on your thigh. “You don’t have to be frightened with us, period,” he scolded playfully. “You know that.”

You nodded, giving him a thin smile. “I know, I just… rough few days. And we haven’t even…” Swallowing, your gaze dropped to Henry. “What are you doing about your dad?” Neither brother answered for a few moments, forcing you to look up at them.

Sam sucked in a breath, offering you a hesitant smile. “Private cremation. Just to make sure it’s done. We’ll bury the ashes next to Mom.”

Waking with a start on the couch, it took a few seconds to register your surroundings. The fire had long gone out behind the guard, leaving the room bathed in only the glow from the lamps on the wall - all you could hear was Dean’s gentle snoring behind you and Sam’s across the room.

At some point, they’d dragged Henry’s crib into the lounge, so all four of you were together.

Your nightmare still clung to your senses; horrific visions of dead bodies and blood, leaving a shiver wrapped around your spine and sweat on your skin. Sitting up, you glanced at Dean, hesitating to wake him.

“You okay?”

Sam’s low voice made you jump and you turned your head to look at him. He hadn’t moved but his eyes were open, focused on you. “Nightmares,” you admitted.

“C’mere,” he murmured, holding out a hand.

Slipping from Dean’s side, you slid into Sam’s, burying your face in his chest as you tried not to knock your injured arm too much. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“What for?”

“Everything.”

He huffed in amusement. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Y/N. Not like we weren’t about to go off guns blazing. You’re just… faster.” You smiled against his shirt, closing your eyes as you inhaled his scent. “We’re gonna find him.”

“I know.”

Silence filled the space between you, Dean’s snores interrupting every few seconds. Henry whined in his sleep, throwing out a fist against an unknown assailant before settling back down with his fingers in his mouth.

“He won’t remember this, will he?” you asked, suddenly terrified of the lasting repercussions of what had happened.

“I don’t,” Sam commented, smoothing one hand over your hair before sliding it down to cup your cheek, pulling you into a soft kiss. “Besides, he’s got the best mom any kid can ask for.”

You smiled. “He’s got a pretty awesome dad too. And uncle.”

Sam grinned, kissing you again. “You’re gonna need to sleep.”

Shaking your head, you curled into him again. “Can’t. Nightmares.” You shuddered, trying not to recall how satisfying it felt to put a bullet into the two thugs at the bar. Firing a gun wasn’t new to you, neither was causing someone’s death, but feeling good about it?

That part truly terrified you.

“What if we relocate for a while?” Sam suggested, assuming it was the Penthouse and what happened there that had you so tense. “We can take everything out to Westchester. Start fresh, sorta.”

You should have told him the truth there and then. But moving to the Westchester estate would make it easier to work without them knowing anything. Rowena was already searching for Azazel and you knew you’d have him soon.

It was your job to put him down. To protect your son.

Forcing a soft smile onto your face, you pressed your lips against Sam’s once more. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Watching from the doorway, you smiled as Dean explained all the characters on the screen to his nephew. They were both still in their nightclothes - Henry had oatmeal smeared down the front of his dinosaur onesie - and Dean had decided they were experiencing the joy of Toy Story.

At least the first one.

It was all a ploy to give you a break. Sam was nowhere to be found and with Henry fed, changed and entertained, your uses were thin on the ground. There weren’t even any accounts from the club to go through, something that you’d taken as your job alone. You’d always been good with math, and it was nice to have something mindless to occupy yourself with.

With nothing to do, you decided on a shower before resuming your unpacking.

Moving out to the Westchester house was done within the week. The Penthouse was on the market, stripped bare and ready for new owners. A part of you was sad to see it go, but you were mostly happy to have a bigger place for Henry to grow up in.

The boys couldn’t be at the house permanently with you just yet but being the weekend, they’d put off any work so they could make sure you were settled in okay. Your shoulder was still healing and you still wore the sling, giving it a chance to mend properly.

You were struggling with getting the dressing off when Sam entered the huge bathroom, instantly moving to your side. Wordlessly, he took over, meeting your eyes in the mirror as he peeled the sticky gauze from the still-open wound.

“How does it feel?” he asked huskily.

“Sore,” you replied. “Itchy.”

“It’s healing,” he murmured, tossing the dirtied fabric into the trash. “You showering?”

“Yeah.”

“Want some company?”

Grinning, you turned to him, running your hands over his chest. Much like Dean, he was still in only his t-shirt and boxers - he was already tenting the front of them. “Is showering what you have in mind?”

Sam smirked. “I can scrub your back afterward.”

You stripped out of your shirt and panties, dodging around him to climb into the shower stall; Sam didn’t take very long to join you, ignoring the spray in favor of pinning you against the wall. “Sam!” you squeaked in protest, silenced when he sought out a kiss.

Groaning into your mouth, Sam slipped his hands under your thighs, lifting you to hook your legs around his waist. Instantly, you cried out, pain lancing through your shoulder and he dropped you like a stone. “Shit, you okay?”

“Yeah,” you panted, clutching your shoulder. “It’s just not load-bearing right now.”

He grinned an apology, kissing you softly to distract you from the pain. It took a few seconds for it to fade enough so that you could respond, sliding your hands down his wet chest. “Turn around,” he murmured. “Stick that pretty ass out for me.”

You smirked, obeying his gentle command, arching your back and bracing your hands against the shower wall. Flashing him a grin over your shoulder, you wiggled your butt enticingly. “Like that?”

Sam growled, dropping to his knees and framing your ass with his huge hands. “Just like that.”

Without warning, his tongue was buried in your snatch, the vibrations of his salacious moans making you shudder against the wall. He pressed deeper, holding your hips tightly and you whined, gasping when he pulled back to replace his tongue with his fingers.

“Cum for me, pretty girl” he ordered; you nodded, biting your bottom lip as he fucked two fingers into you, pressing deep until you cried out.

He didn’t give you a chance to come down from your high when he withdrew, getting to his feet and lining up, swiftly sinking into you. You damn near passed out, closing your eyes as the penetration and consequent thrusting sent you headlong into another climax.

“Fuck, can’t wait to have you all tied down again,” Sam growled, leaning over to bite at your shoulder as he kept fucking you against the wall. “Feels like we never get any time to play anymore.” You nodded, unable to form words with the unbelievable pressure building in your belly. “Gonna cum, he warned, his arms tense as he pulled you upright, almost impaling you on his cock alone.

The depth of his thrusts made you see stars and you balanced on tiptoes, your good arm curled up around his neck, tugging on his hair as he started to come undone.

“Lemme feel it, Sam,” you begged, swept away in the moment.

He came with a dull roar, biting into your unmarked shoulder, just hard enough to cause a spark of pain that made you cum again. Sam groaned through his orgasm, not stopping his frantic rocking until he was done.

Pulling away, he watched in satisfaction as cum dribbled down your legs, washing away with the shower spray. You leaned against the wall, still trying to catch your breath as Sam grabbed the soap. It didn’t take long for either of you to get clean, and all you could think about was having a nap.

Offering you a towel, Sam helped you out of the shower, grabbing his own to dry down. “Listen -”

You groaned, cutting him off. “You know, that tone always means I’m not gonna like what you’re about to say.”

His mouth set in a thin line and you assumed he wasn’t a fan of what he was about to say either. “Dean suggested that your mom come and stay for a while. Just until we can be here permanently.” You blinked at him, dismay on your face.

“My mom? Why would I need my mom? Gadreel is here.”

Sam chuckled at that. “Gadreel ain’t no good at changing diapers, sweetheart.” His words inspired a scowl. “And I’m not suggesting you can’t handle it but,” he gestured to your shoulder, “you’re hurt.”

“What about Benny?”

“We need him with us. He’s gonna drive down and pick Sarah up, bring her back here tomorrow morning.”

You grunted as you ran the towel over your back, trying to make yourself bleed again. Being shot hadn’t turned out to be much fun and it was something you were actively trying to avoid happening again. “Mom won’t like you calling her Sarah.”

The irritatingly smug smirk was back on his face. “She didn’t mind it when we called. In fact, she insisted on it.”

“Ugh.” You tossed the towel toward the laundry basket. “You two are the absolute worst. My mom drives me crazy. And she hates you.”

Sam shrugged, throwing his own towel. “Well, we’d be happier if you had someone here that’s a little more maternal than the caretaker.”

“Don’t let Gadreel hear you call him that.”

“Is that a yes?”

There wasn’t a choice, you knew that. Sam and Dean needed to know you were being taken care of - it wasn’t that they didn’t trust you to be able to care for Henry, they didn’t trust you to look after yourself. In all likelihood, they didn’t trust you not to run off and do something stupid.

They didn’t need to know that’s exactly what you were planning to do, sans the stupid part.

“Yeah,” you grumbled, slapping his ass as you walked past. “But Imma make you pay for it.”


	16. Chapter 16

Within an hour of your mother walking into the house, the Winchester brothers were leaving it. You were unsure how to feel about them leaving; on the one hand, you could get things done a lot quicker without having to sneak around but then…

Then there was your mom.

She meant well. She really did, and seeing the sprawling estate with the high ceilings and plush furnishings had been enough to keep her polite except that the second your men left, she was right back on track.

“It’s a very nice house!”

Wait for it…

“But are you sure you’re happy here? Safe?”

“Mom, please,” you turned a withering look on your progenitor. “I really don’t need more of this right now. You can’t be nice to Sam and Dean’s faces, then turn around and slate them the minute they’re gone.” Her face twisted with a sour expression and her reply was on her lips.

Thankfully, Henry chose that moment to shriek loudly at the television and grandmother-mode rendered the conversation obsolete.

You sighed, watching for a few minutes as she fussed over the child, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket. Pulling it free, you answered the call, pleased to hear Rowena’s gentle lilt on the other end of the phone. “_Hello, dear_.”

“Hi,” you muttered, backing out of the room.

“_I have news_.”

“Yeah?” Gadreel was by the front door, cross-legged in a chair reading the local tabloid. He ignored you when you passed, heading up to the bedrooms. “What did you find?”

Rowena chuckled on the other end of the line. “_He’s not very good at hiding. One of my boys tracked the use of his email to Philadelphia and he’s currently on a private jet to Washington_.”

You smirked. “Do we know where he’s heading?”

“_Without Alastair, Azazel is floundering, especially now the police want him for murder. He’s burning bridges_.”

“So he’s gonna hide,” you deduced, closing your bedroom door quietly. You needed to pack - Washington was a few hour’s drive from the Westchester estate. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about Henry.

“_There’s a strip club there that doubles as a safe house_,” Rowena continued, “_and guess who has their name above the door_.”

Azazel was running like a wounded beast. You just had to get there in time and confront him. There wasn’t any doubt that Sam and Dean wouldn’t find him soon and you needed to deal with the threat yourself. This wasn’t about revenge - deep down, you knew you had to prove yourself. You had to protect your son.

“Thanks, Rowena.”

“_I’ll text the address. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten my favor, dear. I’ll be in touch_.”

You ended the call, grabbing a bag to hastily packing a few clothes. Gadreel still hadn’t moved when you returned downstairs and you walked past him without getting any attention, heading through into the garage. Tossing the bag into the trunk of the Taurus you’d been using as a runabout, you made sure your gun had a full complement of ammo before locking everything up.

Your mom was bouncing Henry on her knee when you returned to the living room. “Mom,” you murmured quietly, sitting beside her. “I’ve gotta run into the city. There’s an account with the club I need to check on.”

“Can’t you do that here, honey?” She looked at you in concern. “I’ve only just got here.”

“I promise I’ll be back in the morning.” You smiled, reaching out to take one of Henry’s hands. “There’s no one else I’d rather leave Henry with.”

The pride on her face told you that your praise worked and Sarah bounced Henry again. “Oh, we’ll be fine without Mommy, won’t we, little man?” Henry gurgled and released your fingers, waving his arms in the air.

“Thanks, Mom,” you whispered, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

Gadreel wouldn’t be so easy to get around. 

Heading back to the garage, you opened up the doors, finding him stood just outside. “Where are you off to?” he asked, narrowed eyes making you swallow nervously. You’d never known much about the stoic caretaker, except that he _hated _being called that. He lived at the house full-time, keeping it occupied when the Winchesters were in the city.

“Mom left a few things back home,” you lied smoothly. “I’m gonna go grab them for her and come right back. I’ll only be a few hours.”

His face didn’t change for long seconds and you wondered if he was gonna buy the story. It was likely he’d ask your mom and contact the brothers as soon as he discovered the conflicting explanations but it would give you enough time to get going.

“She’s okay with Henry?”

The question was full of concern - Gadreel didn’t really do babies and you’d heard him informing Sam of that fact.

“Don’t worry,” you assured him, laughing a little. “She won’t disturb you. Just keep them safe, yeah?”

He nodded, turning on his heel in the gravel and heading back to the house. You rushed back to the car, pulling it out onto the front driveway before closing the garage up. For a few seconds, you thought Gadreel would have already sussed you out but he didn’t reappear.

You gunned the Taurus out of the gate, every fiber of your being set with determination. Azazel would not survive the night.

“You spoke to Gabriel?”

Dean’s question made Sam’s head jerk up from his phone. He was about to text you, check in on everything, but his brother had successfully distracted him. “Yeah. He said he’d be happy to entertain us, whatever that means.”

“Probably just Gabriel being an idiot,” Dean mumbled, pulling the car into the right-hand land to dodge a huge SUV being driven by a lady who looked like she was halfway into the grave already. “Look, he’s good at finding people. But can we really trust him?”

Sam shrugged. “We don’t have a choice. None of our sources are talking and the police are fucking useless.”

Dropping his phone onto the dash, Sam ignored the filthy look from his brother, leaning back in the seat. He didn’t particularly want to deal with Gabriel but with no other options, they were stuff. Azazel had been in the wind for nearly two weeks and he knew he couldn’t rest until the threat was over.

“She’s gonna be fine, you know,” Dean reassured him. “She’s strong. Stronger than we’ve ever given her credit for.”

“She got hurt,” Sam grunted. “_Again_.”

“What, you wanna lock her away and hope she doesn’t hate us?”

“At least she’d be safe.”

“She is safe,” Dean stressed. “She’s safe where she is, we get this dealt with and we go home. Start workin’ on that grand plan of yours.”

Sam smirked at that. “It’s a good plan!” he defended.

“I’m not saying it ain’t,” his brother retorted. “But it _is _grand.”

“We’ll all be happier.”

“Here’s hoping.”

The sun was already beginning to set over the city smog when they pulled up to the building on Spring St and Dean growled at the limited parking. “You know Gabe has a private parking lot underneath his building, right?” Sam commented, amused at his brother trying to navigate the traffic. It was one of the reasons they rarely used the Impala inside the city but Dean had needed a touch of home comfort and Sam hadn’t argued with it.

“Yeah but it’s locked.”

Sam’s phone beeped on cue and he grabbed it, scanning the text. “Would you look at that?”

Gabriel’s face appeared on the screen. “_Bluetooth door video, boys_,” he chuckled. “_I love technology. Parking is open for Winchesters_!” He disappeared - Dean rolled his eyes and followed Sam’s gesture to the ramp leading underneath the huge golden-clad apartment block.

It was easy to find a space among Gabriel’s fleet of cars, most of which were limousines. They parked up and headed for the elevator, finding themselves stopped by security at the door. Their guns were removed, and each of them were given a ticket.

The doors opened, revealing Gabriel in a bathrobe, with a cigar hanging from his lips. “Welcome, welcome!” he cheered, ushering both men into the huge elevator. “It is good to see you, Sammy!” He clapped the larger man on the shoulder before pointing a finger gun at Dean. “Dean-o.”

“Don’t call me that,” Dean seethed, forcing himself into the corner of the mirror-covered elevator and folding his arms over his chest.

“Now, now, boys,” Gabriel grinned, “this is a palace of pleasure. You should behave accordingly.”

“How the hell do you get away with having an entire building for nothing but sex?” Sam mused. “The club is hard enough to handle.”

“The spa provides a great cover,” Gabriel commented, running a hand through his hair with a smirk. “You know, you guys always have an open invitation, if your girl isn’t up to -”

“Finish that sentence,” Sam threatened, “and you won’t have anything left to please your women with.”

Gabriel swallowed, nervously smiling at the two bigger men. “Point taken. I figured as much but it’s polite to offer.” Dean snorted and the elevator pinged, signaling their destination. They were on the top floor, high above the city, although not as high as the Penthouse had been. “My office is this way.”

His office wasn’t much of an office. Sure, it had a desk and a chair, but the jacuzzi with three partially naked women in it didn’t give it much of a professional vibe. Gabriel bypassed the chair in favor of the women, shedding his bathrobe; both Sam and Dean looked away when they realized he wasn’t wearing anything by a tiny gold speedo.

“Dude,” Dean clenched his jaw, glaring at Sam, “you coulda told him to dress.”

“Jealous?” Gabriel chuckled, slipping into the water between the two blonde women, who giggled and instantly fawned over him. The third girl, a brunette, picked up a glass of champagne and offered it to him. “I mean, this is the life.”

“You wanna get dressed?” Dean snapped.

The smaller man didn’t seem intimidated and he leaned back, sipping his drink as his women touched him, practically worshiping him. “You’ve got bigger problems than dick envy, Dean.” Sitting up straight, he ditched the drink. “Ladies,” he patted one of the blondes on the rump, “we need some privacy. Why don’t you go and enjoy the pool?”

Giggling and cooing, the three women exited, leaving Gabriel to climb out of the tub alone, retrieving his bathrobe.

“You mean Azazel?” Sam rumbled, his entire frame vibrating with rage.

“I mean,” Gabriel sat at his desk, lighting his cigar, “your sudden distrust of me.”

Both brothers blinked in surprise, completely in the dark. “What the hell are you on about?”

“You two. Going to another source to find Azazel. I gotta say, I’m a little hurt.”

“Another source?” Sam parroted. “What the fuck are you implying? You’re the first -”

Gabriel cut him off. “Then why am I hearing that Rowena is working a job for the Winchesters? A job that should have been mine?” They stared at him blankly. “Don’t play dumb. I thought we had a good relationship here, boys. Yet, I hear she’s already on the case, all for a favor from a Winchester.”

The penny dropped; Sam and Dean looked at each other, suddenly understanding what was happening. “We haven’t dealt with Rowena in years. Not since that business with Crowley,” Dean informed him. “But… we’re not the only Winchesters.”

“Shit.” Sam shook his head, already on the move to the door. “We gotta get back.”

“Wait.” Gabriel’s voice stopped him. “Are you telling me, your wife is the one hiring Rowena?”

Dean groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah.”

“She wants to end the threat herself,” Sam murmured. “We’ve gotta stop her.”

The smallest of the three men chuckled. “I guess you’re gonna need me after all.”


	17. Chapter 17

The atmosphere in the room was tense. Gabriel had slipped off to get dressed, leaving them alone and neither brother was pleased about having to wait around. As Gabriel swept into the room, they fixed twin glares on him, irritated by his intentional delay.

“So,” Gabe started, sliding back into his chair, pulling the collar of his silk shirt up. “Your good girl doesn’t seem to be so well-behaved after all.”

Sam bared his teeth. “What do you know?”

“I know where Azazel is heading,” he replied flippantly. “Rowena wasn’t happy to spill the beans but we go back a long way. I got it out of her.” He scrawled an address on a post-it note, sliding it across the desk. Sam picked it up, raising an eyebrow at the address.

“Caramel?”

“It’s a strip-club. Not as prestigious as our establishments. But Azazel’s tastes always ran a little… dirtier.” Gabriel propped his feet on the table. “Now, about my payment…”

“Whoa, wait a sec,” Dean ground out. “You didn’t do anything!”

An arched eyebrow met his declaration. “Didn’t I? I could have kept my trap shut. Then you’d have no idea your girl was about to run into a trap. You think Azazel isn’t expecting at least _one _of you to show up? He’s gonna be ready to kill without asking questions.”

The Winchesters froze, not having considered that. “Y/N’s at the house,” Sam argued, glancing at Dean. “She… she wouldn’t leave, Gadreel wouldn’t -”

“Gadreel watches the house, Sam. Y/N is smart enough to give him the slip.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dean groaned. “Call him. Tell him to keep her there if she isn’t gone already.”

Gabriel waved a hand. “Hello? Payment?”

Sam glared at him. “What do you want?”

“The Penthouse,” Gabriel replied smugly. “Market value, no more, no less. I wouldn’t expect you to hand over property like that without a fair price.”

“It’s yours. Our lawyer will get the papers over to you,” Sam muttered.

“That’s not all.” Gabriel’s level tone made the brothers instantly tense. “I’ve heard rumors. I don’t care if they’re true or not but if… _if_ they are true… I get first refusal on the club.” Silence followed his request; Sam swallowed, unsure how there were even rumors about their plans. “You boys wanna leave this town, right? Put all this behind you?”

“Thinkin’ about it,” Dean retorted, his words guarded. “I guess, if we sell, we’ll come to you first.”

Clapping his hands together, Gabriel got to his feet. “Perfect. Now, I can tell you that your girl already slipped your guard about an hour ago, so you’re gonna need to get going.”

Washington didn’t look like you remembered from your school trip years ago. Granted, you’d been eighteen and visiting historical sites, not scoping out a strip club for a man you intended to kill. Maybe back then, you’d have felt some hesitation, some remorse for what you were about to do.

Things changed.

Entering the front of the club wasn’t an option. You sat across the street in the Taurus, watching the two burly guards who would stop you before you could get in. An alternative access point was required. Shifting the Taurus out of park and into drive, you pulled away from the curb, driving around the block until you spotted an alleyway.

Aside from a few prostitutes and the odd homeless person, the street was deserted. You locked the car, checked your gun was in your pocket and jogged across the street into the alley, glancing over your shoulder to make sure you weren’t being followed.

The club was easily spotted from the rear, although the lower half of the building was locked up tight. Your only option was the fire escape to the third floor and it was gonna be a climb. Stretching out a little, you climbed onto a dumpster, looking up at the ladder only a foot or so above you.

God, it hurt when you propelled yourself upward, your hands catching on the rusted rung, grunting as you tried to pull yourself up. It was harder than the pull up bar in the gym but you made it, reaching the second floor and stopping to catch your breath

Your shoulder ached. Reaching back, you slid one hand under your clothing, satisfied when your fingers came away clean. Opening that up again didn’t sound like fun but you still had a job to do. Injuries would have to be dismissed until it was done.

The second ladder wasn’t so bad and required no jumping and within a few minutes, you were on the third-floor access, near an open window that seemed to lead into an office. Scrambling in, you left the window open in case you needed a quick escape.

“Antonia!”

High pitched squeals followed the call and you ducked behind the desk, watching around the corner as two barely-dressed women rushed by the half-open door. They were giggling, snatching at each other and seconds after they passed, a door slammed somewhere down the hall.

You got to your feet, withdrawing your pistol and checking the barrel again. Keeping it hidden but to hand, you slipped from the office and down the corridor, away from the noise. Azazel could be anywhere but you were betting he’d hidden himself away from the club patrons.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Freezing on the spot, your finger caressed the trigger of the gun.

“Hey, are you okay?” It was a security guard, a large older male with a kind face. God, you didn’t want to kill him. “You look a little lost.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, relaxing your hand and giving him an apologetic smile. “This is my first night.” The guard gave you a friendly smile, stopping a few feet away as you turned. “They told me to come up here and see the boss? He asked for me as soon as I came in.”

_Please buy it, please buy it. I don’t want to shoot anyone but Azazel._

Wrinkles formed in the corners of his eyes with his concern; no doubt any other woman on their first night going to see “the boss” would be a cause for worry. Your own first night on the job was still a vivid memory, albeit one that hadn’t turned out so bad.

“He’s on the fifth floor. Second room on the left. You want me to walk you up there?”

Shaking your head, you grinned, acting as naive as you could. “No, I’m good. Just hope I’m not in trouble!”

His smile seemed a little tighter and you could see the pity in his eyes. This man seemed like someone who didn’t want to work the job but you knew how often people became trapped in seedy employment just to feed their families.

“Take care, miss,” he murmured, turning his back on you and you sighed in relief.

The fifth floor was deserted, one long corridor with three doors on either side. Only a single room had a light spilling through underneath the door and you paused outside it, listening carefully.

You didn’t hear anything until metal pressed into your temple and you froze. Azazel’s low laughter came from behind you.

“Do you really think I’m _that _stupid?”

The satellite navigation still said it was thirty minutes to their destination, even with the Impala’s gas pedal flat on the floor. Sam sat forward in the passenger seat, anxiously tapping his fingers against his knee, his other hand dialing your number over and over.

You hadn’t answered once.

“You wanna stop?” Dean grunted. “The busy tone is driving me nuts. She’s not gonna answer.”

“What if she -” Sam swallowed, shaking his head. He couldn’t say it and Dean didn’t acknowledge the question, giving him a withering look before turning his attention back to the darkened roads ahead. Traffic was light, unsurprising at such a late hour, but they still had to be careful of cops.

Neither of them wanted to voice their concerns. They hadn’t been raised that way, to express their emotions vocally. It was only since you’d become part of their lives that they’d even begun to open up, and even then, it was only to you.

Now they faced losing you. Henry faced losing his mother.

Dean took the turnpike off of the highway, speeding through city streets. Sam kept tapping his fingers against his knee. He called your number again and his brother sighed. “Still another thirty minutes,” Dean muttered bitterly. “Should have gone around town.”

“Would have been just as quick,” Sam replied, pressing the call button again.

“I can’t believe she took off again.”

Chuckling under his breath, Sam shook his head. “I can. She’s not the woman we met, Dean. She’s…”

“Like us.”

“She’s dealing with a threat. She’s just being a mother.”

“Most mothers don’t steal cars and head out with intent to murder.”

“But would you really expect any less of us?” the younger brother pointed out. “Man, we did this to her. We made her into steel and she’s just rolling with it. She saw a problem and she went to fix it. It’s kinda admirable.”

“You won’t sound so proud when she’s dead,” Dean spat. “She can’t be this reckless, Sam!”

Sam shrugged. “Pot, kettle, black. I remember a certain someone threatening to kill a street punk for scratching his car.”

“That was a matter of dignity. My Baby should be treated better.”

“A scratch on a car shouldn’t mean death,” Sam disagreed; Dean huffed and turned the car again, weaving through the cabs that lined the streets. “Either way, I don’t know… I don’t think she’s gonna get herself killed. We keep forgetting that she was a damn good cop before she was with us.”

Dean’s mouth set into a thin line. “I _want _to forget that.”

“And that’s why you’ll keep underestimating her,” Sam drawled, although his anxiousness didn’t ease. “She’s gonna be fine, Dean.” There was a pause before he sighed, pressing the call button again. “I’m more worried about the fact that she doesn’t seem to be feeling any remorse for all the bodies she’s dropping.”

“Nothing to have remorse for. She killed two gangbangers and she’s about to kill an asshole who’s destroyed more lives than I can count. Dunno why you’re worrying about that.”

Sam looked down at the phone as it disconnected again. “I don’t want Henry to grow up like us.”

Glancing at his brother, Dean pulled one hand off the wheel, slapping it on Sam’s shoulder to squeeze reassuringly. “He won’t,” he promised. “And you’re right. We’re underestimating her. But that’s not gonna stop me running in to save her ass.”

He received a grin at the comment and Sam nodded. “Me either.”

He should have pulled the trigger as soon as he had you but somehow, you felt like Azazel was more of a monologuing villain. The sound of his own voice was a delight to him and it made you hate him a little bit more. Nothing like a conceited prick to get your rage going.

“Mrs. Winchester,” he purred, ushering you into the room you’d been investigating, closing the door once you were inside. Your gun weighed heavily in your pocket but you didn’t dare reach for it. “I was very much hoping it would be you.”

You put your back to the window, staring him down. “I wasn’t gonna let you get away with what you did.”

Azazel smirked, keeping his gun on you but drawing a little closer. “I made you an offer you were stupid to refuse,” he drawled, tilting his head a little. “Not that we can’t… renegotiate now. Unless you’re expecting company.”

It was likely Dean and Sam had figured out what you were doing but you weren’t about to tell him that. You lifted your chin in defiance. “What makes you think I wanna negotiate anything with you? The only thing I want is you, dead.”

He ached an eyebrow, chuckling. “Such a fire in you. I can see why the Winchesters have had trouble keeping you tame.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

His smile stretched ear to ear, almost inhuman. “My dear, I could give you far more than either of those _boys_. More money, more power - isn’t that something that would at least tempt you?”

“Not in the slightest,” you snapped, not missing a beat. “I don’t give a shit about any of those things.”

Azazel hummed, pouting. “Hmmm. What about the life of your son?” You froze. “From where I see it, I’m holding the gun.” He took a step closer. “And you aren’t in any position to argue. I still have friends, Y/N. Power. I can make your life so much better or so much worse.”

Posturing. It was all he could do. He had a gun, sure, but it was all he had. You knew his contacts were fried, his friends few and far between without his right-hand man to organize them. Azazel hadn’t been able to run his own show for a long time. And he rarely got involved in the dirty work.

Smiling, you took a step toward the gun, the muzzle only an inch from your forehead. “I think,” you whispered, putting on a heavily seductive tone that caught him off guard. “I told you to go fuck yourself.”

His expression twisted in a split second, traveling through surprise, disgust, and then rage. The gun was so close and you ducked, bringing your fist up into his throat just like you’d been trained to do. Your knuckles sang with pain; Azazel fired a shot that went wide, smashing through a photo on the wall, shattering it.

“This is the last time you’ll mess with the Winchester Family,” you seethed, grabbing his gun from where he’d dropped it, watching in satisfaction as he tried to recover from the blow.

“Is that what you are?” he croaked, laughing. “A family? Those boys are too fucked up to ever be normal. Look at what they’ve done to you.”

Your finger itched on the trigger; he was trying to get a rise out of you. “They made me better.”

“They made you a killer.”

“No, you did that.” You fired just as he surged forward, taking you off your feet. The bullet hit a lamp, precariously balanced on the nightstand and the old bulb inside shattered as it hit the ground. Sparks from the broken electrical item instantly ignited the gross carpet.

Azazel yelled as he tried to pin you, his strength not quite as superior as he expected. He was old - you were (relatively) young, healthy, and angry enough to fight dirty. Lifting your head swiftly, you collided your forehead with his nose.

The skin split and blood spurted over his face and yours but it did the trick, allowing you to shove him off. Getting to your feet and shaking off the headrush, you stared at the rapidly spreading flames, deciding to run for it.

Azazel’s fingers closed around your ankle, dragging you back down. You hit the floor with a screech, your injured shoulder bursting with agony.

Your gun had fallen from your pocket, laying only inches from your hand.

He laughed, clinging to you with an iron grip and you felt the heat of the fire on your face.

“You’re going to burn with me, my dear,” he called, refusing to let go; you grabbed the gun. “Isn’t that fitting?”


	18. Chapter 18

They were five minutes away when the fire trucks sped past them, almost taking the wing mirror of the passenger side. Sam’s expression flooded with pure panic and Dean slammed his foot on the gas, paranoia pushing him to follow the three huge engines.

The _Caramel _was five storeys of flame when they pulled up, both of them climbing out of the car amid the crowd of onlookers, a curious mixture of businessmen, half-naked women and concerned members of the public.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked one woman, who stared at him from underneath her baseball cap.

“Building caught light about fifteen minutes ago,” she said. “No one knows why.”

Another onlooker, a man in a thick overcoat, snorted loudly. “Probably the poorly maintained electronics combined with a badly aimed facial.” The woman’s face twisted in disgust and she moved off; Dean was struggling not to smirk at the comment.

“Dude,” Sam chided and his brother’s expression returned to stoic concern.

The man in the overcoat moved away, leaving the two brothers on the outskirts of the crowd. “Do you think -” Dean started, only to be cut off by Sam’s hand almost in his face.

“Don’t,” he mumbled. “She wouldn’t burn down a building. That’s reckless but it’s not Y/N.” His eyes moved to the sky - the lower floors weren’t quite as engulfed as the top two although a loud cracking sound indicated that it wouldn’t be long before the entire building came down.

Firefighters rushed in and out, pulling survivors free. One soot-covered woman was rounding up the half-naked hookers, counting them like sheep. 

He grabbed Dean’s arm. “Look.” The elder sibling’s gaze followed Sam’s and they both stared in dismay as the top floor started to collapse in. Flames, smoke, and sparks went up into the sky, creating an eerie glow on all the faces watching.

“Please,” Dean whispered, “don’t be in there.”

There was nothing they could do. The crowd grew thicker as morbid curiosity drew more people in, the building slowly crumbling until even the firefighters couldn’t risk going in. It was a waiting game and one that filled both Winchesters with dread the longer it went on.

Within minutes, the entire building was aflame, the vicious heat forcing the crowd back. Firefighters began to disperse people, setting a perimeter to protect anyone from further collapse.

“I don’t see her,” Dean mumbled, tears in his eyes as he scanned the crowd. “Sam, I don’t see her.”

“Hey.”

Both men turned in tandem, shock on their faces. You smiled back at them, holding your arm at an awkward angle. Soot clung to your skin and clothes, and one of your pants legs was torn, the skin underneath bleeding.

Sam didn’t seem to notice any of that, scooping you into a hug that was far too tight and filled with relief. You didn’t protest, despite the pain of his touch, just as relieved to see him as he was to see you. The second he pulled back, you attempted to breathe, only to find Dean replacing Sam with an even tighter hug.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he sobbed, cradling your face when he finally let you go. “I’m gonna kill you, I hope you know that.”

You laughed, tears tracking through the dirt on your face. “Love you too,” you whispered, touching his face and managing to smear blood and soot across his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head, Sam placed his hand on your shoulder, smiling through his own tears. “You’re okay. Alive at least.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “It was a bit of a drop from the fire escape and y’know -” You pointed at the destroyed building. “Fire.”

“Did you do that?” Dean asked and you shook your head.

“Accident.”

“Azazel?” Sam’s single-worded question made you swallow and you looked him in the eye.

“Dead.” A shudder ran down your spine and you looked around at the crowd. “Can we… can we go home?”

Sam took his coat off, draping it around his shoulders as Dean nodded. “Yeah. We can.” A frown crossed his face. “How did you even get here?”

“Erm, about that…” You trailed off, unsure how to explain the Taurus, still parked around the back of the building. “I borrowed one of the cars -”

“Please, not the Mustang,” Dean pleaded, sagging when you shook your head.

“The Taurus.”

He shrugged, suddenly not caring. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

Laughter bubbled up in your throat, quickly becoming hysterics as the night’s events overwhelmed you. Scooping you off the ground, Sam nodded at Dean. “Let’s take her home.”

The need to stop for gas became pressing when they reached the state line, just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. You stirred from your slumber on the back seat, wincing at the ache filling every cell of your body.

“Hey,” Dean greeted, opening the back door to crouch down by your head. “You want something to eat?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, letting your eyes close again. “Painkillers.” He chuckled, dropping a swift kiss to your temple before heading off to pay for gas and get supplies. Sam was stood, filling the tank, right by the door and the scent of petrol made you wrinkle your nose.

“We’re only a few hours from home,” he promised. “Just gotta figure out how to get past your mom.”

You smirked at that, still not opening your eyes. “Eh, she can deal with it.”

“Don’t think we aren’t talking about your little excursion,” Sam warned, tapping the nozzle against the tank opening to get the last drops of gas out. The action made the whole car shake and you suddenly felt like vomiting.

“Ugh, later,” you grunted, covering your face with his jacket.

The car tipped to the side when Sam climbed back in, only evening out when Dean returned and reoccupied the driver’s seat. A bottle of water and some Tylenol landed on the seat next to you and you opened your eyes, tugging the jacket down to snatch at your prize.

Dean started the car, the engine rumbling to life as they pulled away from the gas station, continuing on the journey home. You sat up to take the painkillers, accepting a sub when Sam offered it to you. “Thank you,” you muttered.

“So,” Dean started, watching you in the rearview mirror, “Azazel’s dead, huh?”

“Definitely.” Your tone was firm; you knew it would be a long time before you stopped seeing Azazel’s dead body. It hadn’t been you, in the end - the fire had spread quickly and the old building couldn’t do anything but crumble under the force of the flames.

Azazel died impaled on a stripper pole in the room below when the floor collapsed. You’d only narrowly escaped joining him before fleeing the building the same way you got in.

“Let’s hope he was the only casualty,” Sam said quietly.

“It was an accident,” you reaffirmed. “He fired the gun, missed me and hit a lamp. The carpet was a fire hazard.” You met his eyes in the mirror, staring him down. “Sam, if you don’t believe me -”

“I do,” he interrupted. “Doesn’t change the fact that we nearly lost you back there, Y/N. Henry coulda lost his mom.” The comment made your heart go cold and you looked down at the sandwich in your hands. “Look, it’s done,” Sam continued. “You’re safe. We’ll go home. Tomorrow, we’ll get you an appointment at the clinic -”

“No.”

Your sudden refusal made him stop and turn to stare directly at you. “I beg your pardon?”

“No,” you repeated. “No hospitals. No doctors. You’re both trained in field medicine, I’m not that badly hurt.”

“Y/N,” Dean argued; you cut him off.

“I’m sick of hospitals. I’m sick of people telling me what I can and can’t do. I want to go home and be with my son and you. Is that too much to ask?”

The silence that followed was deafening and you sank back into the seat, wincing at your various cuts and bruises. Your leg wasn’t as bad as you’d first thought but you’d be needing another tetanus jab. God, you were sick of shots.

“So, you don’t _like _being told what to do?” Dean chanced, a teasing edge to your tone.

The empty water bottle bounced off his head and landed in Sam’s lap.

They didn’t force you to go to the hospital and when you arrived back at the house, your mom was out cold on the couch, the Netflix screen asking if she was still watching _Downton Abbey_. Sam turned the television off as Dean hustled you up to the bedroom, pausing to let you check on Henry.

When the door closed, Sam was instantly in charge. He ordered Dean to run you a bath before helping you out of your ruined clothing. He cleaned your leg, deciding it didn’t need stitches but confirming that you’d need another shot.

“I hate shots,” you grumbled.

“And I hate my wife running off to get herself killed every couple of weeks,” Sam retorted, earning himself a glare when he raised his eyes to meet yours. “It’s a good job I love you, pretty girl.”

He finished cleaning up the wound, a question obviously playing on his mind as you watched his jaw tick in a neat rhythm. The tension between you was too much to bear, like a lead weight in your belly, making you feel sicker with every passing moment.

“Sam.”

The soft utterance of his name made him look up. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t do it.”

He frowned. “Do what?”

“I didn’t kill Azazel,” you confessed, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “The fire burned out the floor and he fell. Impaled through the throat on a stripper pole.” 

Whatever reaction you were expecting, laughter was not one of them. It started low, gradually increasing until it was loud enough to draw Dean from the bathroom, concern on his face. “What?” he demanded and Sam waved at him, trying to catch his breath.

“Tell… tell him.”

You repeated what you’d said; Dean’s reaction wasn’t as excessive as Sam’s but he definitely found it funny. “Man, talking about going with dignity.”

“I made sure before I ran. It was…” You shuddered. “I don’t think I’m gonna stop seeing it for a while. He was still trying to scream.” The image was still fresh in your mind - it took Sam’s hand on your bare thigh to drag your attention back to him. “I’m okay.”

“Dean’s run you a bath,” he murmured, taking your hand. “How about we get you cleaned up?” Tugging you to your feet, he led you through to the bathroom, leaving Dean in the bedroom. He followed a few seconds after, already topless as Sam helped you into the tub.

You grimaced when the water touched your wounds, the dirt rinsing off your skin to discolor the water. Sam frowned at the murky bathwater, although you barely noticed when the heat started to sink into your bones.

“Let’s rinse all this crud off,” he said quietly, grabbing the sponge. You nodded absently, leaning back and resting your head against the hotel-issue bath pillow. Dean moved behind you, lowering his hands to your head.

His voice was low and very close to your ear. “Want me to wash your hair?”

You hummed in response and he chuckled, reaching up for the showerhead. He didn’t seem to care much about any mess, not even bothering to put a towel underneath the end of the claw-footed tub as he started to rinse out your sooty hair.

Between their hands, you turned to putty. The warmth of the water soothed away the aches and by the time you were clean, you were half-asleep. Dean drained the water as Sam helped you out, wrapping you in a huge fluffy towel and carrying you back into the bedroom.

The bed was almost too soft when they laid you down, each brother stripping before taking their respective sides. Dean pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as Sam turned the light off, pressing in close behind you.

“G’night, pretty girl,” Sam murmured.

You were already asleep.

Henry’s cries disturbed your sleep only a few hours later. The brothers slept on and you squirmed out of the bed, grabbing your robe from behind the door. When you reached the nursery, your mom was already in there, lifting Henry from the crib as he cooed and pulled at the rollers in her hair.

“Hey,” you mumbled, shuffling into the room with a yawn.

Your mom looked up, hefting Henry onto her hip. “Good morning, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

It didn’t seem like she was at all aware of what had occurred the night before. “I’m okay.”

“You must have gotten back early this morning,” Sarah commented, walking past you with Henry and toward the door. “Why don’t you get some more sleep? You look exhausted.”

The stinging in your leg when you followed her made you pause, torn between rest and seeing your son. At the top of the stairs, your mom turned, giving you a soft smile.

“Go and sleep, honey. Henry’s in good hands.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you whispered. “I promise I only need a couple of hours.”

“Take as long as you need,” she ordered, kissing you on the cheek. “If we need anything, we’ll ask Gadreel.” Turning, she headed down the stairs, leaving you at the top. You watched them disappear out of sight before heading back to the bedroom.

Sam and Dean were still asleep when you slipped in and closed the door. Grabbing the soggy towel between them, you tugged it free and crawled back into the space, smiling when Sam’s arm automatically snaked around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“Where’d you go?” he mumbled sleepily, his hips rolling into your ass.

“Check on Henry.”

“He okay?”

“Mom’s sorting him out.” You yawned, wriggling against him. Opposite you, Dean remained dead to the world, his lashes dark against his cheeks as he snoozed. Sam’s hand slipped over your thigh, his fingers digging into his mark on your leg. “Sam…”

“You really gonna say no?” he purred, nuzzling into your throat. “Nearly lost you…”

The covers shifted and you whined, not fighting him when he pulled the robe off and tossed it to the floor. He stopped briefly to check your shoulder, kissing over the raised scar tissue; you giggled when it tickled and Sam laughed.

“Mmmm,” Dean groaned, leaning in as he woke up. “Fuckin’ love waking up to these titties in my face.” You shrieked when his mouth caught one nipple, sucking hard. 

“Dean!”

He only laughed, cupping your breasts so he could press his face between them. “How’m’I supposed to resist you?”

Sam’s hand ran over your ass, his breath hot on your ear. “Been a while since you had us both,” he commented, squeezing your asscheek hard.

“Do I need to mention the almost-dying?” you whimpered, unable to muster any resistance when Dean kissed you.

“We’ll be gentle?” Sam offered, his tone weak; you giggled.

“I don’t think you’re capable.” The teasing made him growl, his teeth scraping over your throat. His cock was hard against you, already sliding between the globes of your ass. “Sam -” Your needy gasp was answered with a throaty moan.

Dean slid down, parting your thighs, dragging his tongue over his initials on your thigh. “Tell us what you need, baby girl.”

“You,” you whined, sliding your fingers through his hair. “Want your tongue on my pussy.” He groaned, giving you exactly what you wanted, flattening his tongue against your clit. You writhed under his touch, panting heavily as Sam moved, mirroring his brother’s position behind you. Pressing his face between your asscheeks, he teased your hole with his tongue, grunting when you pushed down against them both.

The cry on your lips made them both stop and glance at the door. “Your mom is still here,” Sam muttered, swiping his tongue between your asscheeks. “Don’t want her to come running.”

Dean chuckled, pulling away entirely and slipping from the bed, padding to the dresser, cock bouncing with each step. He pulled open the top drawer, pulling a bit gag out and glancing back at you with a sly grin. Your eyes sparkled as you smirked back, watching him snag a bottle of lube before returning to the bed.

He didn’t even have to ask; you tipped your head up, lifting it so he could secure the buckle, making sure the bit was tightly lodged between your teeth. “Good girl,” he praised, sliding back down and tossing the lube at Sam.

Resuming their oral activities, your moans were muffled by the gag and you quickly lost all awareness of anything but their tongues. Both of them moaned against you, the vibrations increasing your pleasure, dragging you further and further into bliss.

When you finally came, they both drew back. Dean returned his attention to your tits as Sam squeezed a small amount of lube onto his fingers, pressing them into your ass. “It’s been forever since I’ve had your ass,” he mumbled, kissing along your shoulder. Easing one digit into your tightest hole, thrusting it back and forth slowly. “Hmmm, so tight.”

You moaned into the gag, letting your eyes flutter closed. Sam continued to pump his finger for a few more seconds before adding a second, making you suck in a harsh breath around the gag. Dean chuckled around the nipple in his mouth.

“Remember, Sam,” he released your breast with a wet pop, “gently.”

Pulling his fingers away, Sam grabbed for the lube again, slicking his cock with just enough. You lifted your leg, biting the bit when the blunt head of his dick pressed into your ass. He held still, rutting against you, teasing you with the promise of more.

Dean moved, meeting your eyes as his face came level with yours. “Both of us, sweetheart,” he murmured, lining up so just the tip of his shaft pressed into you. “All of us.”

You nodded, struggling to control your breathing as they kept still, letting the anticipation build. Dean met his brother’s gaze over your shoulder, and with silent communication, they moved in tandem. The penetration was instant, overwhelming, sending you into a spiral of pleasure fresh off of your first climax.

They didn’t even give you a second to adjust, both of them finding a pace that complimented the other. Over and over they filled you, leaving you a quivering mess between them, every single injury forgotten with the haze of one long continuous climax.

“That’s it,” Sam ground out, his mouth pressed against the back of your neck. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill up this pretty ass.”

You nodded, unable to reply with the gag still silencing your cries, leaving you barely able to draw breath. As Sam’s thrusts started to grow erratic, you let your eyes fall shut, allowing the bliss of their touch to swallow you whole.

Sam came first, holding himself deep in your ass as he pumped thick spurt after spurt of cum into your ass. Your body tensed as the warmth filled you, your pussy walls squeezing Dean, pulling him over the edge. He slammed into you, growling against your throat, his climax leaving his hips rutting restlessly against yours.

All three of you collapsed, remaining close together. The tingling of your injuries kept you from falling asleep again and you grimaced when Sam removed himself, leaving the bed to seek out a towel. Dean removed the gag, tossing it over toward the dresser.

“Gentle enough?” he murmured, catching your mouth in a kiss before you could respond.

“Very,” you managed, staring at him with a goofy expression when he pulled away. “Though I wouldn’t mind some Tylenol.”


	19. Chapter 19

Henry was sitting in his high-chair, his sippy cup turned upside down, slowly leaking juice onto his finger sandwiches. He giggled happily, blowing raspberries when you picked the cup up to right it. “Mmm-a! Mmm-a!” he dribbled, laughing when he caught your finger.

“Gettin’ there,” you whispered, smiling brightly at him and offering him a sandwich to distract him from your finger.

Wiping the stickiness on your jeans, you looked down at your own lunch, feeling a little nauseous with hunger. Your mom took a seat on the other side of Henry, dropping her plate and her coffee cup onto the table.

“You look a little better this afternoon,” she commented, sipping her drink with both hands wrapped around her cup. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, picking up your sandwich and taking a bite. “You really should have woken me.”

Sarah grinned. “I tried. But you and the boys were dead to the world.”

Your eyes widened. “T-the boys? We’re calling them “the boys” now?”

She shrugged, putting her coffee cup down. “They’re growing on me. Helps they’ve given me this gorgeous little guy.” Henry shrieked, slamming his palms into his sandwich, squirting jam over the tray with glee, making your mom laugh. “And they look after you.”

“They do,” you whispered, swallowing your mouthful.

“But don’t think I’m stupid, child. Those two are awful at cleaning up after themselves. I saw the blood and the burned clothes.” Her stern gaze fixed on you. “You weren’t running into the city last night. You went after that man, that Azazel that took Henry.”

Your sandwich hit the plate again. “Mom -”

Holding up a hand, she cut you off. “No. I don’t want to hear anything. Just promise me it’s done?”

“It’s done,” you breathed. “I promise.”

She smiled, picking up her coffee again. “You know, I thought when your father retired, I wouldn’t have to deal with sleepless nights anymore.” Sipping, she sighed. “But with your brother doing what he does and you…”

“Being a cop was dangerous, Mom,” you said softly. “This,” you gestured to the ceiling before looking at Henry, “this was something out of my control. But I’m where I’m supposed to be.” Sarah got up, rounding the table quickly to pull you into a hug.

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“You were always a strong, fierce girl,” she murmured. “And I’m proud you became a strong, fierce woman.”

Sam’s footsteps were always easily distinguishable from Dean’s. The way the brothers carried themselves was similar but different - Dean was by far the stealthiest of the two. You always knew which one was coming.

Although that might have been down to the amount of time you spent blindfolded around them.

Henry was already half-asleep when you pulled the covers up over him, tucking him in tightly. He stretched his arms above his head, eyes mostly closed, a yawn parting his lips as he snuggled down. “Goodnight, baby boy,” you whispered, kissing your fingertips and pressing them to his nose.

Sam wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing his lips against your shoulder. “Did your mom get off okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your eyes still on Henry. “Benny dropped her home about an hour ago and he’s on his way back.” Turning in his arms, you wrapped yours around his neck, smiling up at him. “It’ll be nice to have the house all to ourselves again.”

Humming, Sam kissed you softly, sliding his hands down to your ass. A throat-clearing made you both turn to the door where Dean was leaning, his arms folded across his chest and a smirk on his lips.

“I think you’ll find it’s my turn,” he grunted, standing straight and stepping into the room.

“Your turn?” you asked, moving from Sam’s hold into Dean’s as he approached.

“Yeah,” he rumbled, kissing you harder than Sam had. “My turn to breed you.”

Slapping his arm, you pulled back, shaking your head with a grin. “Not in earshot of the child,” you scolded, turning away and heading for the door. Dean chuckled, dragging his thumb across his chin. You stopped on the landing outside the door, smiling at them both. “But now the houseguest is gone, the rules are back in effect.”

With one push, your yoga pants slipped down your thighs, landing in a puddle at your feet. Both men grinned at the sight of you, bare from the waist down as you stepped out of the fabric.

“Although, it is Dean’s turn,” you mused.

The elder brother growled, bolting for the door, giving you about a second to run off. Your bedroom was only three doors down from the nursery and you squealed excitedly as he chased you, catching you just before crashing through the door. He scooped you up over his shoulder, slapping your bare ass as Sam sauntered in behind him.

“I think this one needs some punishment,” Dean commented. “Something to correct this bad behavior.”

You wiggled, pushing at his shoulders but he didn’t let you go, crossing the bedroom to the door that adjoined it to the guest room. Having the playroom downstairs would be too much of a risk with children about, so they’d converted the room you’d once called your own and joined it to the master.

Sam had ensured it was completely soundproof.

Neither of them made any sound on the fluffy carpet and you giggled when Dean lowered you to your feet, jerking his head in the direction of the breeding bench. It was the same one from the Penthouse, and you shivered as your gaze fell on it.

Walking past, Sam dropped the baby monitor onto the black dresser - it was strikingly out of place with the rest of the room, clashing with the whips and canes lining the walls. But still, you smiled, batting your eyelashes at him. “Thank you,” you whispered, earning a smile from him in return.

It was nice he understood your nervousness over being separated from your son.

“Hey,” Dean murmured, taking your hand. “You know where I want you, princess.”

The carpet squished between your toes as he guided you to the bench, allowing you to kneel on the protruding pad before letting you go. You leaned forward, sliding your arms across the holders, smiling when Dean secured your wrists. The padded two-piece top of the bench left your breasts bare to them and you whined when Dean strapped your thighs in place.

Sam sighed softly, palming his cock as he walked around, observing you from every angle. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this.”

“You say that all the time,” you replied, giggling when Dean’s fingers brushed along your spine. “You said it when I was doing the dishes.”

“Well, I mean it,” Sam retorted, dropping to his knees at the head of the bench, pulling you into a deep kiss. “I’ll never get tired of you.”

Your heart swelled like the Grinch’s and you grinned at him.

Behind you, Dean unzipped his pants, pushing them down. You didn’t even attempt to turn your head to try and see him, too distracted by Sam’s mouth on yours; after several seconds, you completely forgot where you were.

The thick girth of Dean’s cock landing on your asscrack jolted you back to reality and you broke away from your husband’s lips with a gasp.

“Can’t wait to breed this sweet cunt,” Dean growled, grabbing your ass with both hands. He pressed the tip of his dick down until it slipped easily between your soaked folds. With a low groan, he pushed into you, making you whine against his brother’s mouth. “That’s it,” he praised, “every inch.”

You strained your wrists against the leather straps, whining as you turned your head away from Sam. He got to his feet, unbuckling his pants and pushing them down, his cock thick and heavy when it bounced free of his boxers.

“Now, now, pretty girl,” he grunted. “You shouldn’t look away from me.”

It took everything you had to obey and you opened your mouth willingly, letting Sam rest the tip against your bottom lip.

Sam smirked. “Wider.”

You obeyed and he pushed forward, bulging out your cheeks first before you swallowed around him, letting him fill your throat. Your eyes began to sting with tears, and you furiously tried to breathe through your nose so you didn’t gag on his generous length.

He slid a hand through your hair, messing it up as he started to fuck your mouth slowly. Behind you, Dean was only picking up pace, although he didn’t seem to be losing control any time soon.

“It’s been so long since we’ve played with you,” Sam murmured, lifting his gaze to meet Dean’s. “Maybe we should take advantage of the time we have now?” His brother smirked back, one hand pressing into your lower back as he slowed, making his thrusts harder, more intense. You felt like he was punching right into your belly with each stroke, almost making you choke on the dick in your mouth.

When both men pulled away abruptly, you whined with the loss, feeling nothing but empty and unsatisfied. They moved completely out of sight; you turned your head to try and see what they were doing but all you could see were shadows from the lamp. A drawer opened and something rustled - your breathing grew a little more apprehensive with each passing second until a hand covered your ass.

“Breathe, baby,” Dean’s voice was soothing. “We’re gonna take care of you.”

You hummed, closing your eyes, listening to them move around. Fingers danced over your wrists, unbuckling them only to secure them behind your back. Sam appeared, his pants and shirt gone - he adjusted the bench, lifting you to a better angle that wouldn’t hurt your neck quite so much.

Resting your chin on the edge of the bench, you looked up at him licking your lips at the huge cock only inches from your face. “Sir,” you whispered, “please.”

He laughed at your impatience. “Be patient,” he insisted, catching your cheek with his fingertips. “We’re gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

Dean replaced him, stroking his cock as he looked down at you. You strained as much as you could to get closer, sticking your tongue out to entice him. Being slightly less resilient than his brother, Dean gave you what you wanted, slipping his cockhead between your lips.

Cool leather pressed against your right asscheek, sending a shudder up your spine. You moaned around Dean’s cock, trying not to brace yourself for the blow when the paddle was pulled away. When it came, the burn of the impact spread through you, leaving you squirming in the restraints.

The second blow was in the same spot. Sam didn’t pause for the third, or the fourth, and you started to lose count as Dean pushed his cock deeper, fucking your throat.

Satisfied with the darker shade of your skin from his blows, Sam turned his attention to your other asscheek, rubbing the paddle over it before beginning the same rhythm of blows that left you cross-eyed and struggling for breath.

“More?” he asked and Dean pulled away to watch you pant and nod, giving you a second to suck down oxygen before returning you to your task.

Sam’s touch disappeared and for a second, you wondered what he was doing. His hand touched your tender ass, lightly tapping the sore skin, making you jerk and whine in your throat. He hummed; something cold and lubricated pressed against your asshole.

With one hard little push, the plug penetrated you, popping inside your body, nestling deep under Sam’s touch. The thick metal rim held your cheeks apart and Sam groaned, stepping back to admire his work. “Dean,” he growled.

The elder brother looked up, withdrawing when he saw Sam was done. You panted, drooling onto the floor, squirming on the bench. Dean whistled as he walked around, nodding in appreciation. “All your holes are gonna be stuffed, sweetheart.”

“Just a pity we can’t fill her ass with cum too,” Sam chuckled, returning to his position by your head, using one hand to tug you up to an almost painful level. “Gonna leave you so full, pretty girl, and we’re gonna plug you up after.”

A thrill ran down your spine but your moan was cut off when Sam shoved his cock between your lips, forcing your jaw wide. Your eyes rolled back - you didn’t need to do anything as he started to fuck your mouth.

When Dean penetrated you from behind, the overwhelming fullness made you go limp for a second, unable to fight the bliss coursing through your veins. They fucked you hard, leaving you bruised and aching all over but if you’d been able to speak, you’d only ask for more.

Dean came first, holding himself deep inside you as his cock throbbed out his release. He didn’t pull away, watching with dark eyes as Sam kept fucking your mouth. When he came, he pinched your nose, making sure you swallowed every last drop.

You could have sworn you lost consciousness for a second and when he pulled away, you only hand a moment to breathe before your mouth was stuffed full, this time with a phallic-shaped gag that stopped you losing any of the cum he’d fed you.

Groaning against the gag, you jerked in the restraints when Dean pulled back, inserting a thick plug that nestled inside your cunt, keeping his cum deep in your belly. Your head dropped, cheek on the sticky leather - the men stood back, admiring their prize.

The baby monitor crackled and Sam instantly disappeared from the room to deal with the interruption before you could react. Dean crouched in front of you, stroking your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

“Fifteen minutes,” he promised as you rolled your eyes to look at him. “Gonna make sure you’re good and knocked up, one way or another.”


	20. Chapter 20

The doorbell rang just as you got Henry off to sleep and you rushed down the stairs, getting to the door just as Gadreel was closing it. Elle’s heels clicked on the marble flooring as she entered, looking around in surprise at the luxury of the house.

“Elle!” you called, running to hug her; she embraced you back, kissing your cheek. “It’s so good to see you!”

“You too,” she chuckled. “Glad I had the time to come by.”

Taking her arm, you led her through to the kitchen, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you’re moving to London!” You gestured to the wine fridge by the regular fridge. “Hope you’re not driving.”

“Oh no,” Elle scoffed. “I have a car picking me up in about an hour to drive to the airport.” She inspected the fridge, gasping when she spotted a 2014 _Cabernet Sauvignon_, immediately opening the door and grabbing for it. “Girl, your men have the best taste in wine.”

Laughing, you reached up to the cupboard, pulling two wine glasses free. “I honestly don’t drink that much but now I’m not breastfeeding anymore…” You shrugged, trailing off. “Sam and Dean aren’t back for a while yet. Shall we?”

“How’s Henry?” she asked, passing you the bottle. Uncorking the bottle, you quickly poured a generous amount into each glass, handing one to Elle before picking up your own and the bottle, pointing to the dining room.

“He’s really good. We should go into the den, it’s more comfortable.”

The den was more of a man cave since the brothers had been spending more time at home and the Xbox had to be vacated from the living room. Henry was at the age where shoving things into other things was his favorite pastime and Sam had already had to get the console repaired twice already.

Elle took a seat on the huge leather couch, kicking her heels off to tuck her legs underneath her. You mirrored her position, sipping at your wine. “So, catch me up. We’re barely spoken since your trip to Washington.”

“Heh, yeah,” you laughed nervously, “I forgot I told you about that.”

“You’re out here permanently, right?”

“Actually,” you took another sip of the red, smiling at her and placing your glass on the coffee table in front of you. “We’re putting this place on the market. The Penthouse is sold. Sam and Dean are closing the deal on a few acres of land in Kansas.”

One perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted in surprise. “Kansas?”

“Not Lawrence,” you rushed to tell her. “Lebanon. It’s a small town, quiet. Good schools. Sam decided but we were all in agreement.”

“You’ve done it,” Elle muttered, staring at you with genuine shock. “I mean, I thought you’d already done it but you really _really _did it. You tamed the Winchesters.” Blushing, you shook your head, leaning back into the couch cushions.

“It was a mutual decision. They wanted out. I just gave them a reason to do it.” 

“Henry?” Elle asked.

“He’s a big part of it. And when… if we do end up having more,” you shrugged, picking your wine up again, “who knows. The schools in Lebanon are great. Transport links are good. Plenty of wide open spaces. The house on the land we bought needs some work done, but it isn’t like we don’t have the funds.”

“I heard about the club,” the other woman chuckled. “I can’t believe they’re selling to Gabriel.”

You smiled at her, tilting your head a little. “Sure, Gabe’s a creep, but he treats his girls right.”

Elle’s grin was wide as she drained her glass and refilled it. “You look happy. Glowing. You sure you’re not pregnant already?”

“I got better at contouring,” you giggled. “Definitely not pregnant. The way Dean monitors me, he’ll probably know before I do. He’s getting impatient.”

“Eh, these things take time,” Elle shrugged, sipping the wine again. “Besides, you don’t wanna be pregnant _and _moving.”

“What about you?” you asked, shifting to avoid your leg going numb underneath you. “No plans for settling down?”

Elle laughed pleasantly, shaking her head. “I am not the maternal type. Besides, I like having my men right where I want and need them.” A dreamy look covered her face. “I can imagine I’ll find all sorts of naughty boys in London that need a touch of Mistress to whip them into shape.” Her eyes sparkled when she looked at you. “Are you still continuing your lessons with Sam?”

The heat in your cheeks made you look away. “We haven’t had a whole lot of time to… play. With Henry’s birthday coming up and sorting everything out to get the house sold…”

Elle placed a hand on your knee. “Sweetie, you have to make time. Dean’s here, he can watch Henry while you and Sam,” she gave you a lascivious smile, “get acquainted again.” 

“He needs it,” you mused quietly. “He’s been like a caged tiger and -”

The front door opened, the brothers’ loud entrance making you stop talking. They took their time getting in through the door, arguing about something. “I’m just sayin’, you should leave that to Y/N. She’s better at colors. Not like we’ve ever decorated anywhere in our life.”

Sam huffed at his brother. “I decorated the playroom -”

He went silent as he entered the den first, spotting Elle. She smiled at him sweetly and you had to hold your laughter at the panic on his face. “Are we interrupting?” Dean asked, pushing past Sam to drop a kiss on your cheek. “I mean, carry on, by all means.”

“Pervert,” Elle scolded.

“You love it,” Dean retorted, receiving a filthy look from the glamorous woman. Realizing he was intruding, he laughed, slapping Sam on the shoulder. “We should leave them to it, man. Come on, there’s beer in the kitchen.”

Lingering for a second, Sam met your eyes, silently asking if you were okay. You smiled back at him, waving him off with your hand. He grinned, following Dean out and closing the door again. “I don’t know how you put up with him,” Elle muttered. “He is such an asshole. A charming asshole, but still…”

“He’s my asshole,” you smirked, the words muttered into your drink.

“Put him to work, Y/N. He won’t mind giving you time alone with Sam.”

The hour passed too quickly before Elle was leaving again, her car arriving on time. As she drove off, you watched from the door, thinking back over her words. Hearing the boys upstairs, you smiled, deciding there was no time like the present.

Dean hadn’t hesitated to agree to your request for some time alone with Sam. He never questioned what you wanted the time for but then, he’d never really been involved in his brother’s need to be dominated. Sometimes you wondered how Dean would react; every time you thought about asking, you pussied out.

Tackling Sam was harder. You weren’t sure it would ever get easier to give him orders, although you had grown to enjoy doing it.

Approaching him in the study, you leaned against the desk, pressing your arms together as you rested your palms on the sturdy oak surface. It pressed your breasts together, getting his attention far quicker than when you uttered his name. “Sam?”

“Hey,” he grinned, raising his eyebrows, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, trying to sound as seductive as possible. “But I want you to go and shower. I want you clean.” The firm tone made Sam shudder and he sat straight. “_Really _clean.”

“Yes, Y/N,” he answered huskily. “How long?”

“The playroom. Thirty minutes.” You turned, pausing for a second before looking at him. “Prep yourself.”

His swallow was almost comically audible.

Leaving the room, you kept your pace slow, hearing him frantically packing away the contracts he’d been working on. You headed upstairs, checking in on Henry and Dean, the former starting to drift off as Dean read him a Dr. Suess book. He grinned at you as you stuck your head in, not breaking his pace in the story.

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better, no it’s not.”

Smiling, you pulled the door until it was only open by an inch or two, hearing the bathroom door slam down the hall. You kept moving, stripping as soon as you were inside the bedroom, naked by the time you reached the playroom.

Pushing the breeding bench to the side, you found the chain and cuffs, attaching them to the ring secured in the middle of the fluffy carpet. Darting back into the bedroom, you grabbed a pillow from the bed, depositing it by the ring, remembering Sam’s dodgy knee had been playing him up recently.

By the time you had everything you wanted lined up on the dresser, Sam was in the bedroom, drying himself off. You didn’t disturb him, although you heard his aroused grunt as he prepped like you asked. When he finally entered the playroom, he had two minutes to spare and he stopped by the door, closing it and fixing his attention on you.

“Kneel,” you ordered, pointing at the pillow.

His cock was already hard, dragging against his thigh with every move; you couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of it, thick and curved. Sam’s lips twitched as he resisted the urge to smirk, dropping to his knees slowly.

Worry about his knee made you pause. “Color?” you tested and he smiled.

“Green.”

Giving him a satisfied nod, you bent down, picking up the open cuffs. “Front cuff,” you requested and Sam obeyed, watching with dark eyes as you secured his wrists to the chain. Once you were done, you stepped back, noticing his eyes following your every move. “Liking the view?” you asked.

“You’re not normally naked,” he commented warily.

“I couldn’t be bothered to find anything to wear,” you sighed, leaning back against the dresser, his hungry gaze inspiring a fresh burst of arousal between your thighs. “Besides, I know that you prefer the entire show. It makes your torture so much better.”

Sam barely held in the groan at your words, swallowing around the lump in his throat. You smirked at him, glancing over at your toys, stroking your fingers over the same cockring you’d used on your first time.

Picking it up, you turned to him, approaching slowly. He didn’t move a muscle when you kneeled in front of him, grabbing his cock with one hand and placing the cockring at the tip. It strained as you rolled it down, not stopping until it was snug at the base of his shaft.

He was beginning to sweat.

Getting to your feet, you watched his cock turn a darker shade, visibly throbbing as his arousal fought the forced confinement. Sam groaned, swaying the smallest amount before regaining his composure. “Good boy,” you praised, running your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly.

Releasing him and returning to the table, you picked up the bit gag, carrying it to him. Sam opened his mouth obediently, earning himself a smile, and you secured the buckle at the back of his head, careful not to catch his hair.

His teeth rattled against the gag as he tried to adjust it, his eyes still locked on your movements. You ignored him, tapping your finger against your chin as you surveyed your toys. The urge to use the vibrator on him was drawing you toward that but you didn’t want him to cum too soon.

Besides, you had a specific endgame in mind.

Looking back at him, you smirked, picking up the small silver nipple clamps. Sam’s eyes widened a tiny amount as he saw what was in your fingers but he didn’t move a muscle when you stood in front of him. He winced when you secured the first clamp to his left nipple, not reacting at all when you placed the second on his right.

It was hard not to give in to what your body was craving.

Standing back to take in the view, you let him stew for a few seconds. He exhaled heavily through his nose, his chest heaving, nipples white where the clamps bit into them.

“When I see you like this,” you murmured, riveted by the state of him, only minutes in, “it makes me realize what you see.” Stepping closer, you tipped his head with one hand on his cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

His cheeks darkened. You giggled and moved away, retrieving the thick flogger laid at the end of the dresser. Sam didn’t move when you walked around him, dangling the thick leather strands over his bare ass.

“Stay still,” you commanded.

Half a dozen red lines sprang up on his buttocks after the first hit; Sam didn’t move, save for the natural sway of his body when he was on his knees. You raised the flogger again, bringing it down harder this time and he groaned into the gag, his breath growing heavier.

Three more quick blows, more red lines. They were almost indistinguishable from each other now, covering his lower back down to his thighs, a few deep enough to draw out a narrow line of blood. Sam moaned, crunching the bit between his teeth.

You brushed the straps over his red ass, smirking when he flinched. “I’m gonna make you cum, Sam. I wanna _watch _you cum.”

Placing the flogger back on the dresser, you picked up the vibrator, turning it on and showing it to him. It was bright pink, smooth to the touch and Sam swallowed as best he could with the gag in his mouth, panting through it.

“But not just yet,” you added, sitting in front of him, spreading your thighs so he could see your glistening pussy. “First, I want you to watch _me _cum.”

His eyes were almost black as he watched you touch the tip of the vibrator to your hole. You sank it into your body, groaning as it filled you, the girth nowhere near satisfying enough to get you off. Leaning on one elbow, you pressed the tip of the sex toy to your clit, your hips automatically jerking with the sudden intense pleasure.

“Fuck, Sam,” you arched, pressing harder, “you like watching, huh?”

He nodded, unable to answer verbally, not blinking as he watched you writhe. Your own expert knowledge of your body had you cumming in only a few minutes; you stopped short of the explosive edge, panting as you clenched repeatedly around nothing.

The vibrator was slick with your juices and you held it up as you got to shaky feet. “Your turn,” you whispered, walking behind him, trying to remain confident despite your head swimming from the climax. Sam was visibly tensed so you placed one hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Relax.”

It took a few seconds for him to obey and you dropped to your knees, running the tip of the vibrator over his asscrack. He didn’t tense again; you pressed it against his asshole, smiling when the tight ring of muscle started to give. The prep he’d done was thorough - he moaned through the gag, lifting his chin as you penetrated him by a couple of inches.

“That’s it,” you purred. “Take it for me, pretty boy.”

Sam’s moans got louder as you started to stroke the vibrator back and forth inside him, the setting at its lowest. His hips rocked to meet each thrust and you gave him a little more, rewarded with a grunt when the blunt tip hit his prostate. Moving so you could see him from the side, you grinned when you realized how desperate he was to cum.

His cock was pulsing against the ring, his hands clenched tightly in the cuffs. Sweat dripping from his tilted chin, sinking into the hollow of his throat before traveling down through the thick hair on his chest. Each nipple clamp glistened, their prisoners hard as diamonds underneath their teeth.

“I’m gonna let you cum, Sam. You want that?” He nodded, almost choking when he tried to gasp. With your free hand, you rolled the cock ring up off of his shaft, tossing it away. Sam groaned as you wrapped your fingers around him, pumping him in time with each thrust of the vibrator.

It took a few seconds to notice how tense he was and you realized that you hadn’t given him permission to cum.

Leaning in close, you brushed your nose against his shoulder. “You can cum, Sam.”

The sound he made was muffled by the bit but you could feel it almost erupting from his cock, coating his chest and stomach, leaving your fingers stickier with each pulse. You didn’t stop stroking him as he came, fucking the vibrator into him a little harder.

He started to mewl and you slowed to a stop, withdrawing the toy from his ass and dropping it onto the floor. Releasing his cock, you lifted your hand to inspect the mess, smirking at his utter loss of control. “Good boy,” you praised, getting to your feet and grabbing one of the towels from the chair beside the dresser. Wiping his spending from your fingers, you gathered up the used toys, wrapping them in the towel to clean later.

Sam was near collapse when you returned to him with a fresh towel, removing the clamps and the gag, cleaning him up as best you could. Undoing the cuffs last, you tossed them over to the other pile of toys before helping your husband to his feet.

He leaned on you, nuzzling into your throat as you led him out of the playroom and toward the bed. Reaching the bed, you guided him down, smiling at the dozy expression on his face. “I’ll be right back,” you promised, darting off to the ensuite. Moments later you returned with a warm flannel; Sam didn’t make a sound as you cleaned him up properly, leaving his ass for last.

By the time you were done, he was almost asleep. You discarded the flannel in the laundry and climbed into bed behind him, playing big spoon for a change.

It didn’t last. Dean creeped in an hour or so later, disturbing the light sleep you’d been enjoying. Sam had turned in his sleep, facing you, his entire body more relaxed then you’d seen in weeks. You didn’t speak as Dean undressed and climbed into bed, making sure the baby monitor was audible.

“You good?” he asked, pressing up against your back.

“Yeah.”

“Sam?”

You sighed happily. “Yeah.”

Dean grinned into your neck, kissing the spot below your ear. “Good.” There was a beat and he breathed heavily against your shoulder. “I love you, Y/N. We both do. Hope you know that.”

A smile curled your lips. “I do.”


	21. Chapter 21

_One Year Later_

“Daddy!” Henry’s excited squeal pulled Sam’s head up from the text he was reading. You’d been for your first scan that morning and he was nervous, despite the 99% chance of Dean being the father. It meant their family was growing either way.

His eighteen-month-old son was running toward him on his toddler legs, holding out a perfectly smooth rock. “Whatcha got there?” Sam queried, smiling when Henry placed the rock in his palm.

“Look, Daddy! Isso smoove.”

Sam chuckled, turning the rock over in his hand. “Hey, maybe Laura will let you paint it at nursery tomorrow?” Henry’s chubby little face lit up.

“Imma fine mwoar!” he announced, running back off to the playground to explore for more prized rocks. Smiling, Sam watched him, leaning back against the seat.

“Good afternoon,” Gabriel’s voice made him look up, “been a while.”

“A bit, yeah,” Sam muttered, moving so he wasn’t taking up the entire bench. Gabriel sat down beside him, watching as Henry stopped and waved.

“Boy’s gettin’ big.”

“Winchesters tend to.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Gabriel spoke again, bringing up the subject Sam hoped he would avoid. “Bela told me you’d be here,” he murmured, giving the larger man a sideways glance. “Just finished signing the contract you sent over.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Can’t believe you’re actually going for it.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s a fresh start. We all need it.”

“Especially now number two is on the way, right?” Gabriel smirked when Sam gave him a sharp look. “Bela runs her mouth. But you don’t seem to be stressed about it.” Sam didn’t reply, focusing on Henry as the boy found another rock, inspected it, then tossed it away, clearly unimpressed with the quality.

“Things are changing.”

Gabriel nodded, slinging one arm across the back of the bench. “That they are, my friend. You definitely look a little more relaxed than you used to. Must be nice being a gentleman of leisure for a change.”

“Yeah, well, it’s easy to do when you got money in the bank,” Sam commented. “I should really thank you for setting up that exchange with your father and Zachariah.”

The other man grinned. “You’re welcome. It wasn’t entirely without motive; the perfect apartment I’m currently entertaining a very hot set of twins in is amazing. You never told me it had so many functional rooms.” The observation made Sam laugh - he knew exactly what Gabriel meant by that, having spent his own time enjoying those _functional _rooms.

“Glad it pleases.” Henry was bolting over with a fresh rock, holding his find in the air with a huge grin on his face. When he noticed that his father wasn’t alone, he slowed, frowning at the newcomer. “Hey, kiddo. Lemme see the rock.” Sam held out his hand; Henry absently dropped the rock into it, still eyeing Gabriel suspiciously.

“Who’s dat?”

Gabriel laughed, getting to his feet. “It was good to see you, Sammy. Best of luck.”

Sam nodded, watching him go, pulling his eyes away only when Henry tapped his cheek. “Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s dat?” The kid pointed in the direction Gabriel had gone.

Smiling, Sam picked up Henry and his two rocks. “No one,” he replied, shifting Henry onto his hip. “How about we get your rocks home?”

“Mama went see the dockor,” Henry mumbled sadly, holding his rocks to his chest as he gave his father a worried look. “Is she sick?”

“No,” Sam assured him. “Mama is fine. Hey, you wanna get an Uber back to the hotel?”

“Uber! Uber!” Giggling, Henry clung to his father’s neck, chatting happily the entire way back to the Plaza. Sam let him talk, answering questions when they were posed and nodding in all the right places. His mind was elsewhere, worry about his brother and wife as he hadn’t heard anything since they’d left this morning.

The sun was starting to go down as Sam entered the hotel suite with an almost-asleep child on his shoulder, his rocks now tucked safely in his father’s pocket. Loud voices alerted him to the other occupants of the suite and he quickly laid Henry on the couch, intending on silencing the source of the noise.

“You can’t be serious!” Dean’s voice, followed by a thud.

“I fucking can be,” you spat angrily, turning your head as Sam walked in. “Sam can fuck me bareback all he wants but you - you’re _banned_.” Dean stood by the door, genuine fear on his face as he glanced at his brother. Sam shut the door, glaring at both of you. 

“What the hell is going on?” he hissed. “You tryin’ to upset Henry?”

“We didn’t know you were back,” Dean defended. “And she was the one shouting.”

A book flew across the room, narrowly missed him and Sam turned his ire on you before you could grab another one. You put the bible down, looking at Dean pointedly, gesturing to Sam. “He only put one in there, Dean. _One_.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, suddenly concerned. “What do you mean -” It dawned on him and the strength went out of his legs.

“Scan went well,” Dean managed weakly. “Might have done too good a job.”

“T-twins?” Sam choked out, staring at you for confirmation and you nodded. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you grunted, slumping down onto the bed. “We’re gonna need a bigger house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and thank you for all your comments and kudos! There have been some inquiries as to a third part to the Rising Sons series and I'm not ruling it out but I have a lot of other commitments before I can move work on it. If you're interested in following me and my work (including updates and new stories coming soon), I'm on Tumblr at @kittenofdoomage.


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